


Worthless/Priceless

by anxioussquirrel, captain_pihkal



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Branding, F/F, Gen, M/M, No rape/no-con between main characters, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Slave Trade, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:46:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 94,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxioussquirrel/pseuds/anxioussquirrel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_pihkal/pseuds/captain_pihkal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt buys a beaten and abused Blaine at a slave market and helps him get better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The market

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt:
> 
> A good, old-fashioned slave fic where Blaine is a slave at auction. I'd like some serious hurt/comfort. Maybe Kurt is at the auction accompanying Finn, who's looking or maybe he's just curious about the market. He doesn't intend to buy anyone but then he sees Blaine, beaten and bruised but beautiful and about to bought by someone that Kurt knows is cruel.
> 
> He buys Blaine and takes him home. No healing cock please. Blaine is damaged and skittish and Kurt is a good guy who wants to help him. The rest is up to you.

When they say a car loses a certain percentage of its original value the moment you drive it off the lot, what they mean is that the value of a car decreases in the years you own it and is therefore not to be viewed as an investment. The same is true for slaves and, just as it is with cars; the rate at which a slave’s value decreases is determined by a number of factors.

One of these factors is the slave’s age, slave children are usually allowed to remain in their parent’s care until the age of 14 if the slave’s owner doesn’t decide otherwise. Slave traders are obligated to sell children with their parents, although, to be fair, no one really investigates whether or not they really do. Then again, no one ever seems to investigate anything concerning the treatment of slaves. Slaves are considered most valuable in their teens and early twenties. After that, their value decreases rather rapidly, but since slaves hardly ever live to their 40’s, this drop in value hardly concerns anyone. 

Other factors such as skills, strength, obedience, training and experience are factors that aren’t as easily quantifiable and are usually assessed by the slave traders for each slave individually. 

The most important factor, however, is the purpose a slave is used for. Slaves that are used for hard labour may expire rapidly if they are not well taken care of, but, if treated well, their value may even increase as they gain strength and skill. 

This does not apply to pleasure slaves. Pleasure slaves are the most frequently re-sold type of slave, since their owners get bored of them rather quickly, which makes the pleasure slave market one of the biggest slave markets there is.

Beauty is a curse for slaves. Only the prettiest of slave children are taken to be sold as pleasure slaves, usually at an age as early as 12. From the moment their virginity is taken, their worth only decreases. The first time a pleasure slave is re-sold their price will be somewhere around 50% of the price they were originally sold for. After the second owner they’ll be worth 25% of their original price.

To inform their customers about the number of owners the slaves have had, slave traders will often arrange their slaves in lines under banners that say “NEW”, “50% off”, “75% off”, “87,5% off” or “93,75% off”. Each slave has to undergo a medical examination before they can be re-sold. If a pleasure slave contracts a sexually transmitted infection or disease their worth immediately drops to zero. The costs for medical treatment usually exceed the slave’s value so slave traders usually don’t pay for treatment. Those slaves are either ‘put down’ immediately or put under a sign that says “100% off” as an indicator to their predicament, they can be bought for miniscule sums, though they usually aren’t since no one ever choses a diseased slave over a healthy one. And a healthy slave with 3 previous owners is easily affordable as well, which is why most traders don’t even bother announcing to the world that they even have a diseased slave in their lot and just get rid of them right away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

His father had taken Kurt to slave markets on multiple occasions, so Kurt knew how to talk to slave traders and what various banners indicated. But Burt had never let Kurt go anywhere near pleasure slave markets. Now, standing in the middle of one of the biggest travelling pleasure slave markets that had put up its auction tents in Lima, Ohio for the weekend, he understood why. 

 

Rows and rows of slaves were lined up as far as he could see, their bodies scantily clad if not completely exposed. All of them were looking at the ground in what was supposed to be a respectful position, but the truth was that most of them had been trained to stand like this since their early childhood that the position held no meaning any longer. It was a rather chilly autumn day and the slaves were all trying to suppress tremors that threatened to shake their bodies because of the cold wind. He was somewhat glad to see that they had at least been given permission to wear shoes.

“Damn it, we should have come earlier, I hope there’s still some good ones here somewhere”, Santana mumbled under her breath so only Kurt could hear her.

“How can you even talk like that”, he hissed “They’re people!”

“You agreed to come, not my fault if you don’t wanna be here!” Santana said.

“I’m here, because you are holding my new Marc Jacobs jacket hostage and you threatened to burn it if I didn’t give you a ride here!”, he pointed out. 

“Whatever, I’m gonna go look for my birthday present. You can go pluck your eyebrows or whatever”, Santana said before wandering off. Kurt could tell her insults were half-hearted.   
She would never admit it, but Santana was nervous. The real reason she had chosen to blackmail Kurt into helping her wasn’t because she needed a ride, but because Kurt was the only person in their Glee club who knew his way around a slave market. His father’s shop ‘Hummel’s Tire and Lube’ was the home of many slaves. Most people didn’t bother trying to teach slaves valuable skills, since most people didn’t even really consider them human, but Burt Hummel didn’t believe that. He liked buying ‘cheap’ slaves off the markets and teaching them all he could about cars. He took them in and gave them a roof over their heads, three big meals a day and an education. So far he had been able to turn each and every one of the ten slaves they had had in the past decade into a great mechanic.

What the Hummel slaves didn’t know and what Kurt had had no idea about either until it happened for the first time three years ago, was that Burt Hummel didn’t keep the slaves in his possession. After ten years he set them free with a bank account into which he had paid a monthly salary, not much less than he would have to pay a non-slave, for every month they had been with them. The difference was just enough to cover the additional housing costs etc. just enough to make sure that Hummel’s Tire and Lube was still making enough money. It was a generous stepping stone into an independent life for a slave. He also offered them the opportunity to stay employed at Hummel’s Tire and Lube, which so far every slave had happily agreed to. Of the three men who had been the Hummel’s slaves for over ten years, two had remained with them, while another one had left to get married and start a new life. Kurt was proud of his dad.


	2. Chapter 2

“Kurt!” Santana called, raising her arm high above her head, so he could make out her location through the rows off slaves. “Get over here!”

He sighed and passed through the 50% OFF section to get to the “NEW MERCHANDISE” section, which was marked by a bright purple banner with silver letters that seemed overly bright and enthusiastic hanging above all those miserable slaves. Though Kurt had to admit the new slaves didn’t look anywhere near as exhausted and bruised as the other slaves, they did however look just as terrified. Kurt shook his head in disdain and joined Santana who was looking at one of the slave girls as though Christmas had come early. 

“She’s perfect”, Santana beamed. The girl was indeed beautiful with long blonde hair that fell down her shoulders in a gentle wave. She was taller than Santana and slightly undernourished, but he could see that she had been perfectly fit and healthy up until recently, because he could still see toned muscle from exercise. She must have been treated well, since she was a new slave, and since she seemed barely younger than Kurt and Santana, her parent’s owners must have held on to her for longer than most owners did. He wondered what made them sell her now. The girl had yet to react to their scrutinizing glances.

“Are you sure you’re done looking?” He asked Santana, who didn’t even bother to take her eyes off the slave girl to tell him ‘yes’. 

“Alright, I’ll see if I can find a trader.” Kurt turned to leave, but on second thought turned back around and whispered “I was serious before, let me do the talking when I come back with a trader and meanwhile don’t let anyone else look at her. Just… don’t move.” 

“Whatever, Glinda”, Santana dismissed him. But Kurt knew as he walked away that she would do as he told her anyway.

It took Kurt a surprising amount of time to even set eyes on a slave trader. Sure, it was a busy day, but they were usually by a new customer’s side within a minute. But other than the armed personnel that guarded the perimeter and would shoot any slave stupid enough to try and run away on sight the market seemed to be severely understaffed. The two traders he did pass were already busy bargaining with other potential buyers. He had no desire to wait in line so he kept moving. 

He made his way through the 75% OFF and the 87,5% OFF section and noted with a shudder that the clientele got rougher and dirtier the further he wandered from the NEW slave section. The slaves in the 93,75% OFF section were some of the most pitiful creatures he had ever seen, each one of them seemed at the verge of collapse, with bones showing under sporadically cleaned pale skin. They were shivering more violently than the new slaves had, and when he averted his gaze he saw that not all of them had been given shoes and the ones that had been given shoes didn’t seem to have right sized ones. The traders must have run out of shoes. Kurt’s heart went out to them. If he could, he would buy them all and give them a nice home and as much food as they could possibly want. He and his family could never afford that though, so he could do nothing but look away and focus on not showing the disgust he felt on his face. Showing compassion for the slaves would not go well in this place.

Kurt found three traders standing in a semi-circle in the very back of the market, they seemed deep in discussion. While Kurt wouldn’t usually pass off an opportunity to rudely interrupt them just for the sake of making their day less comfortable, he couldn’t help but be nosy about why they’d be back here and not tending to the needs of their customers. He pretended to be interested in the last slave in the long line he had just passed, while eavesdropping on the trio of men who were caught up in an animated discussion not seven feet away from Kurt. 

“…no way I’m putting this up, it’ll scare away the buyers.” Said one of the men, Kurt heard a cluttering noise and glanced over his shoulders to see that one of the men had thrown a purple banner on the ground. “What self-respecting traders bother dragging along a diseased one? I say we off him and be done with it.” 

Kurt’s heart sank. Lima had a few tight restrictions for slave markets. Traders were not allowed to kill slaves within Lima’s city limits. This was in no way a rule to protect slaves; it was put in place to protect Lima’s citizens from the smell of decomposing bodies that had not been properly disposed of. 

“You know we can’t do it while we’re still within city limits, we could lose our licence.” Another man said in a calm voice. He was wearing a suit and looked very put together, Kurt assumed he must be the owner of the market since the average trader was usually clad in simple black pants and shirts.

“Look at ‘im! No one’s gonna buy that, I wouldn’t take ‘im if I got ‘im for free. That thing’s completely worthless”, said the third man. 

“That doesn’t change the law, I won’t risk it. You can throw him off the bridge outside Marysville if you want but until then you’ll have to put up with him,” the man in the suit insisted and turned to leave. “No use wasting food on him any more though.” He called back over his shoulder.

There was a quiet sob that caught Kurt’s and the remaining two men’s attention.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt turned around slowly to see where the noise had come from, his heart sank. Now that the man in the suit had left, Kurt could see that the three men had been standing around a kneeling slave, thereby inadvertently shielding him from Kurt’s view. 

It was a boy. Kurt couldn’t guess his age because his head was lowered so far that his neck had to hurt. The matted dark curls on his head hadn’t been brushed or washed in a while and looked awfully tangled and unclean. The boy was only wearing a pair of filthy old boxers that looked as though they were going to fall apart at any minute. He was so gaunt that Kurt could see his ribs sticking out from his exposed upper body. Large, dark bruises shone through the layer of grime he was covered in. 

The first man grabbed a handful of the boy’s hair and yanked his head back.

“What was that, bitch?” He hissed. The boy whimpered, shaking his head as violently as the man’s grip on his hair allowed. 

“Answer me, whore,” the man yelled in the boy’s face. “You think you deserve to be fed, huh? Think you gonna find someone who still wants to fuck your diseased little holes? Is that what you think?” 

“No, Sir”, the boy whispered. His voice was rough from disuse, he sounded entirely defeated. 

Kurt felt as though he was going to be sick.

“Thought so”, the man said. He used his grip on the slave’s hair to shove him forward. The boy landed face-down in the dirt at the two men’s feet. 

“One more sound from you,” he emphasised the word ‘sound’ with a kick to the boy’s side “and I’ll personally drag you out of this town and put a bullet in your face.” He took another swing at the boy’s ribs before rubbing the hand he had used to yank at the boys hair on his trousers, as if to clear it of filth. 

The other slave trader had watched with a disinterested look on his face, but he now pulled a syringe from his trouser pocket and uncapped the needle.

“You know what? Screw the boss and screw the city regulations, he’s only taking up space and I ain’t gonna drag his ass around another two days. I’ll give him this. We’ll put him back in the transporter and hide him there ‘til we get out of the city, whataya think?” 

The second man grunted in approval.

Kurt was in front of them in a heartbeat.

They looked up at him in confusion. Kurt managed to take a calming breath and put on a falsely polite smile before saying “Excuse me, hello! I was wondering if I could take a look at that slave.” His heart was racing.

The two traders exchanged baffled glances, but put on their pleasant salesperson masks and took a step backwards. 

“Of course, Sir”, said the shorter of the two men, while putting the cap back on the syringe’s needle and pocketing it. 

“But I gotta tell ya, he ain’t no good merchandise, you might wanna have a look in the 93.75 section if your allowance is limited, kid.” The taller one added. The slave, who was lying on the dirty ground between the trader’s and Kurt’s feet, was very still.

“I assure you, my allowance isn’t that limited. I was actually looking for a trader to help me and my friend out in the “NEW MERCHANDISE” section, but I couldn’t find anyone.”

“Our bad, Sir”, the first man apologized, suddenly in a much friendlier tone now that he had smelled money. “We can head over there right now, if you’d like.” 

“Gladly, but first I want to hear about this one. “ Kurt said, with a look at the slave’s direction. 

“Very well, Sir.” The man went to collect a stack of printed papers he had stored away on a desk nearby while the other one dragged the boy back onto his knees for Kurt to inspect. As the shorter man browsed through a few pages, Kurt looked down at the slave. The trader who was holding him up tilted his head back so Kurt could see his face. Kurt’s eyes immediately landed on the boy’s black eye as well as the dark handprint that was clearly visible around his throat. The only clean parts on the slave’s body were the tracks on which his tears had washed away dirt on his face. His lower lip was split open. The sickening feeling in Kurt’s stomach kept growing stronger.


	4. Chapter 4

The boy didn’t make eye contact, but Kurt could see that his eyes were a warm brown-green color. He seemed to be holding back tears and Kurt wondered if he looked frightening to the boy.

“Ah yeah,” the other trader had found what he was looking for in his stack of papers “okay, so this one’s 17 years old, had 6 previous owners, he’s a diseased one. Blood work came back positive for Syphilis, so we were gonna put him out of his misery.”

Kurt frowned. “Syphilis?!” He asked “That’s easily treatable if not curable!”

“He ain’t worth the antibiotics”, said the second trader. “Anyway, if you want ‘im you can have ‘im for 20 bucks.” 

“Deal!” He said, probably a little too loudly, but Kurt didn’t really care anymore, he wanted to get away from this place and these men as fast as he could.

“Very well then, now how about we head over to the “NEW” section?” The short man suggested and waved for the other man to drag the slave boy to his feet. 

“Yes, yes, of course.” Kurt nodded and tried not to look behind him at the boy who was struggling to stay upright as the tall trader half dragged and half carried him behind Kurt.   
Kurt followed the shorter man and his stack of paper. When they reached the “NEW” section he took the lead and directed them towards the girl Santana was still standing in front of. 

The Latina seemed to have coaxed the girl into looking up and was affectionately running her thumb over the blonde’s cheek. When she saw Kurt approach and shake his head at her, she quickly dropped her hand and the blonde lowered her gaze again. 

“Is that the one you had your eyes on?” The short man asked and started going through his papers again. 

“Yes, my friend and I would like to hear more about her.” Kurt said, placing a hand on the small of Santana’s back. The tall man who had been the slave boy caught up to them, Santana raised her eyebrows.

“Who’s that?” She asked in a slightly confused tone.

“I made another purchase, don’t worry it’ll all fit into the car”, he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone. Santana smiled a very fake smile for the traders and said “I’m sure it will.”

The second trader dumped the boy on the ground carelessly and joined his colleague to help him look for the blonde on their list. Kurt bit back an outraged comment about damaging his property, but the boy wasn’t yet his. Technically, they could still do whatever they pleased with him. So he kept smiling and waited and, after what seemed like ages, they finally found the girl on the list. 

“Alright, 17 years old, virgin, flawless skin, naturally blonde hair, a bit retarded though, so she’s not worth quite as much as a girl like her would usually go for. 10.000 bucks in total.”

“She’s not…” Santana started to protest.

“…worth that much!” Kurt cut in sharply, shooting Santana a look that made her fall silent instantly.

“8.000”, Kurt offered.

“We can’t give her away that cheap, 9.500,” was the short man’s counterproposal. 

“9.000, take it or leave it,” Kurt insisted.

“You drive a hard bargain, Sir”, the short man chuckled. Then looked over his shoulder and sighed. “Alright, since you’re taking that off our hands as well… she’s yours for 9.000.”

“Great.” Kurt said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. 

The trader waved two of the guards over to them. “You two help the nice couple load their purchase in their car!” he ordered. “Let me walk with you so we can stop by the front desk to get the paperwork done.” 

One of the guards slung the boy off the ground and over his shoulder, as though he was used to carrying damaged slaves around on a daily basis, while the second guard took Santana’s girl by the arm rather gently and guided her along behind her new mistress and Kurt.   
The paperwork and payment was over and done with quickly. Two ladies who worked at front desk asked them whether or not they wanted their slaves tied up for the journey. Kurt answered yes, which made Santana frown at him in confusion, but Kurt knew it was suspicious if they didn’t agree. Binding a slave’s hands and feet was customary during travels, not tying them up was considered a safety risk. 

Finally they left the sordid market behind and made their way to Kurt’s Navigator, with the guards now carrying both their slaves over their shoulders, since their feet were bound. 

Kurt opened the Navigator’s trunk and the guards dumped the slaves in it. Kurt had never been so thankful that his car was that big, at least both of them could sit up next to each other with their knees pulled up to their chins without hurting themselves. 

He tipped the guards well and climbed in the driver’s seat just as Santana slammed the passenger’s door shut. 

“I can’t believe…” she sobbed, but Kurt interrupted her one last time. 

“Not yet Santana, we have to get out of here first, please.” He sped out the parking lot and onto the road home as fast as he thought he could go without being suspicious. He heard very soft snivelling sounds coming from Santana but he couldn’t deal with it yet. After about three minutes of driving, he pulled into a deserted parking lot, it was a good place to stop. There was no one around, no houses, no pedestrians, just an empty drive in cinema parking lot. 

Kurt stumbled out of the car and threw up his lunch in a nearby bush.


	5. Chapter 5

When he felt empty he sat down on the ground for a moment, he hadn’t noticed Santana walk up behind him, but she was holding out her hand for him, her eyes looked slightly puffy. Kurt let her pull him to his feet and hugged her close. 

“I never thought they would treat them like this”, he whispered. He may have been to a couple of slave markets before, but his father must have found some way to shield him from this kind of misery. 

“What happened to him?” Santana asked, looking back at the car.

“I don’t know”, Kurt answered honestly, he took a deep breath. “Come on, I don’t want to leave them alone.” He unlocked the trunk and opened the boot lid. The two slaves sat in the exact same position they had been left in earlier.

“Are we at your home now, Mistress?” The blonde girl asked Santana. Santana smiled softly at her and shook her head. Kurt handed her the Swiss army knife he had brought along specifically for this purpose.

“No, we’ll just cut off that rope and get you more comfortable, okay?” The blonde nodded and stuck out her hands and feet towards Santana to grant her easy access to her bound limbs. 

“Good girl!” Santana praised her. She cut through the rope, careful not to hurt the girl. 

The boy had been observing the scene in front of him warily, but at the praise Santana gave the girl he carefully extended his feet and arms a little as if to test if the same reaction would be extended to him. While Santana had been caught up in talking to her slave Kurt had been observing him carefully and took the knife from Santana. 

“Well done”, he said, placing a careful hand on the boy’s tightly bound wrists. “Now I need you to hold still so I won’t accidentally hurt you, alright?” The boy nodded, but his mouth was set in a tense line as if he was waiting for Kurt to cut his wrists. The rope gave easily enough and Kurt untangled the rest of it from the boy’s wrists. 

“Very good,” he contemplated what to say next for a moment as he tenderly placed a hand above the boy’s bound ankles. 

“Thank you, Master.” 

Kurt looked up startled, making the boy shrink back in fear.

“My name is Kurt, there’s no need to call me Master.” He assured the boy as he cut the rope around his ankles. “What’s your name?” 

The boy looked confused for a moment, but promptly answered. 

“Blaine, Sir.” Kurt shook his head, trying to smile in a reassuring way. 

“There’s no need to call me Sir either, Blaine, just Kurt will be fine.”

“I’m Brittany!” came a cheery voice from their left. The girl seemed to have gotten over her fear rather quickly and was looking rather happy as Santana wrapped her up in one of the blankets Kurt kept on his back seat.

“Very nice to meet you, Brittany, I’m Kurt”, he replied, smiling at her, which seemed to make her even happier. He nodded to the front of the car as an indicator that Santana should go ahead and take Brittany to sit in the backseat, leaving him and Blaine in an illusion of privacy.

Kurt reached for the second blanket and unfolded it, careful not to startle the slave.

“Here, you must be freezing.” He said and held the blanket out for the almost naked boy to take. The boy… Blaine shook his head violently making Kurt retract his arms in surprise.

“Please, Sir, I’m filthy, I don’t want to damage your property, this blanket is too nice, I don’t want to dirty it. Please!” He was begging now and Kurt swallowed hard, Blaine thought he would be punished for getting a little dirt on a blanket. 

Kurt’s slightly prolonged silence made Blaine panic, he leapt out of the car and onto his knees, face contorting in pain as he landed in front of Kurt’s feet. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m so grateful you saved me, I’m sorry you had to waste money on something as useless as me. Please, I don’t know how to repay you, I…”

“No,” Kurt cut him off and the other boy fell silent immediately. 

Kurt crouched down making Blaine shrink further to the ground in an effort to lower himself beneath Kurt’s level, just as every slave was taught to do when in the presence of their master. 

“Blaine, please try to look at me,” Kurt said. Blaine’s eyes shot up immediately. “Thank you”, Kurt said calmly. “I want you to listen to me, please.” Blaine nodded, his eyes wide with fear. 

“You don’t have to repay me, I bought you because I had to…I wanted to help you and I will, if you let me. I know you’re scared and you don’t know me so you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I still want to tell you, that I won’t hurt you. I’d like you to sit back down in the trunk for now and take the blanket, because it’s cold out here, but I won’t be mad if you really don’t want it.” 

Blaine looked bewildered as Kurt held out the blanket once more, but then gingerly reached out for it with one hand. Kurt could see his hand shaking and wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold or from fear. 

Kurt frowned as the other boy tried to lift his arms far enough to wrap the blanket around himself and failed, hissing in pain. He walked around him to take a look at his back. He gasped at the angry red welts that were scattered all over his back. How had he not seen them before?

He quickly wrapped the blanket around Blaine’s shoulders. This would just be another note on the long list of things that had to be treated. He closed his eyes in dread as he realized something. 

“Santana?” Kurt called to the front of the car, startling the slave boy.

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I make a phone call before we leave?”

“It’s fine, go ahead!” Santana called back. 

“Would you get up and sit with me?” He asked Blaine gently. Blaine was on his feet before Kurt had even finished the question. Kurt guided him to sit on the edge of the trunk’s platform with his feet dangling down before sitting down next to him, leaving about a foot between them, so as not to crowd Blaine. 

“I have to call my dad”, Kurt explained, unlocking his cell phone screen. The other boy nodded, his gaze lowered again, this time to the blanket. Blaine was running his fingers over a small section at the edge of the blanket in wonder, as if he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch something so soft.

Kurt took a deep breath before hitting the dial button and holding the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”, a slightly gruff voice answered from the other end. The volume setting on his phone wasn’t set very high, but Kurt was sure that Blaine would be able to hear almost everything.

“Dad,… hi!” Kurt’s voice almost broke, he was so relieved to hear his father’s voice. 

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Burt asked sounding instantly concerned. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no don’t worry, I’m okay. I just…”

“Spit it out Kurt, you’re scaring me, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I bought a slave. I had to! They were gonna kill him!” Kurt blurted out. 

A sigh from the other end and a light rustling noise told Kurt that his father had taken his cap off to massage his scalp. “I just knew this would happen, I knew the moment you told me you were going to the market with that girl Santana.”

“What? How?” Kurt was frowning in confusion, still waiting for an outburst that wouldn’t come.

Burt sighed again “You’re just like your mother, that’s how, buddy. Is he or she hurt?”

Kurt looked over to Blaine and tried to list all his injuries in his head. He couldn’t remember all of them and probably didn’t even know about many more. 

“He’s really hurt”, he whispered.

“Bring him home, kiddo, I’ll call the doctor and ask him if he can come by and look at him later, alright?” 

Kurt sobbed in relief “Thank you, dad.”

“Now you listen to me, Kurt, you sound really upset, I don’t want you driving like this. Santana has a license, right?” Kurt made an affirming sound. “Okay good, you let her drive you and that kid here and I’ll take her home from here, alright?”

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded, wiping at his cheeks, “I will, we’ll be home in 10 minutes or so.”

“Good, I’ll see you then. Take care.”

“I love you, dad.” 

“You too, buddy!”


	6. The Hummel Hudson Residence

Kurt took a deep breath as he hung up, he turned towards Blaine again. The other boy had stopped running his fingers over the blanket and was looking quietly at his feet. 

“Come on,” he sighed, standing up. “Let’s go get in the car.” Blaine nodded and pulled his knees up to his chest, leaning back against the back of the trunk. 

“Oh, erm… no, Blaine, I want you to sit in the car, okay?” Kurt explained. 

“I’m sorry.” Blaine didn’t hesitate to get out of the trunk for a second, but he looked a little confused at Kurt’s request. 

He started swaying precariously after taking one step towards the car door. Kurt reached out to steady him by his upper arm, which made Blaine freeze for a second, but with Kurt’s support he made it to the backseat where Kurt sat him down next to Brittany. 

Brittany immediately reached out and helped him put on his seatbelt. Kurt couldn’t help but notice that Blaine didn’t flinch when Brittany touched him, he was grateful for that. 

“Santana?” He asked the Latina who was still standing next to Brittany’s open car door. “Do you mind driving us home? My dad will take you and Brittany to your house.”

“Sure,” Santana said, giving Brittany’s cheek one last affectionate stroke before she closed the back door and opened the one at the driver’s seat. Kurt handed her the keys and sank into the passenger’s seat with a sigh, he was so glad his dad was going to help him. 

He looked back at Blaine through the side mirror as they drove. Brittany seemed to have taken a shine to him and was whispering softly to him. Kurt couldn’t make out much of what she said and he didn’t really want to eavesdrop on them, but whatever she was saying seemed to relax Blaine a little. 

When Santana parked the car in front of the Hudson- Hummel residence, the front door swung open to reveal a worried looking Burt Hummel, who rushed out to pull his son into a hug. Santana told Brittany to stay in her seat as she got out of the car and joined father and son on the front lawn. 

Kurt let go of his father reluctantly just to find his arms full of Santana. “Thank you, Kurt, take good care of him!”

“Don’t worry, Satan, it’ll just give you premature wrinkles”, he answered, earning himself a giggle. Santana released him and got into the vacated passenger’s seat. 

Kurt opened the door next to Blaine’s seat. The other boy had been watching them, no doubt, but his gaze was now lowered respectfully once more. Kurt carefully guided him out of the car by his upper arm once more. 

“Blaine”, Kurt addressed him softly “This is my dad.” Blaine looked up for a brief moment at Burt before looking down again and Kurt was pretty sure that his hand on Blaine’s arm was the only thing keeping Blaine from dropping to his knees in front of Burt. “It’s an honor to meet you, Sir!” He said instead.

“It’s good to meet you too, kid, I’m glad you’re here.” Burt said in a warm tone. He smiled at his dad gratefully. 

“Why don’t you help him get cleaned up a little while I drive Santana and her new friend home?” Burt suggested. Kurt nodded and watched his dad climb into the driver’s seat. He quickly guided Blaine into the house, suddenly painfully aware that the boy wasn’t wearing any shoes, Blaine had to be freezing. Kurt closed the front door behind them, glad to escape from the cruel world outside. 

As soon as he released his careful grip on Blaine’s arm the slave boy dropped to his hands and knees , the blanket falling off his back. 

“What … what are you doing?” Kurt asked, he could see the muscles in Blaine’s bony back stiffen at the question. He didn’t need to see the dread in Blaine’s face to know that the other boy thought he had done something wrong. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to walk inside.” Blaine said, his voice shaky. 

“Oh, yes, absolutely”, Kurt said. He hadn’t even considered that some slave owners might insist on something so ridiculous, he squatted down next to Blaine. “Of course you can walk, you don’t ever have to crawl or kneel here, okay?” He offered his hands to help Blaine to his feet again, but Blaine just looked at them uncomprehendingly before struggling to his feet again. 

“Come to the bathroom with me, I’ll draw a bath.” Kurt said leading the boy by his side to the bathroom. He wasn’t touching him, but he let his hands hover over Blaine’s arms in case he had to catch him. Blaine stumbled after only two steps. Kurt caught him easily, not only since he had almost expected it, but also because Blaine was so light. He almost had to drag the other boy into the bathroom since all of his strength seemed to have left him. At the close proximity Kurt suddenly became aware of the other boy’s overpowering smell, he mustn’t have been in contact with water for days if not weeks.

Inside the bathroom he sat Blaine down on a chair and picked a very mild bubble bath that he hoped wouldn’t aggravate the whipping marks and Blaine’s other injuries and proceeded to fill the bath with warm water. 

The bath didn’t foam as much as most bubble baths did, but he hoped the bubbles would give Blaine some privacy since Kurt didn’t plan to leave him alone in the bathroom. The other boy looked as though he might faint at any second and Kurt really didn’t want to return to a corpse floating in his tub. 

Once he was satisfied with the temperature and volume he walked over to Blaine, helping him to his feet. “Come on, your bath is ready.” 

Blaine looked bewildered. “This is for me?”, he asked as Kurt helped him walk towards the tub.

Kurt nodded. They stopped in front of the tub. “You might want to take that off,” Kurt suggested, pointing at the dirty boxers. Blaine pulled them down and let them drop to the floor without a moment’s hesitation. Kurt made a mental note to watch his tone in the future, since everything he had suggested to the other boy so far had been taken as a direct order.

He helped Blaine step into the tub, keeping him from slipping on the wet surface and carefully set him down, carefully watching him to see if the soapy water was hurting him, but all he saw was amazement as the water covered him to his neck.

“Is the temperature alright? It’s not too hot is it? Do you want out?”, Kurt asked in a panic, ready to pull Blaine out if the water was hurting him, but the slave boy shook his head violently. 

“No, it’s just”, he let out a quiet sob “I’m sorry, I just… it’s warm.” Blaine said as if there had been some mistake. He hid his face in his wet hands.

“Of course it is, it’s a bath”, Kurt said frowning.

“I haven’t been allowed warm water since I was 12”, Blaine whispered looking up at Kurt with tearful eyes. “Thank you!”

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again and putting a smile on his face “Well you can have as much of it as you want now.” He promised, his tone coming out far too cheery, but Blaine’s eyes lit up like a little kids on Christmas morning. Kurt reached into a cupboard for a new bath sponge. He squeezed shower gel on it and set down on the edge of the tub, handing it to Blaine. The boy practically leeched on to it and enthusiastically started scrubbing at his chest as though he wanted to make the most of the sponge as long as he had access to it. 

“We’re in no hurry”, Kurt assured him “you have all the time you want.” His word’s only slowed the other boy down marginally as he scrubbed at his arms, neck and face. 

Kurt wandered if maybe he should give him more privacy, it wasn’t as though he got a kick out of watching the other boy though, he was just worried. He let his eyes wander around the room as Blaine busied himself cleaning his legs and other parts Kurt didn’t want to think about at this moment. 

When Blaine’s rapid movement’s ceased, he allowed himself to look back into the tub. The water had turned a murky brownish grey color and Blaine was currently struggling to reach his back. Kurt assumed the pain from the welts on his back was preventing him from bending his arms enough. 

“How about we pour some new water and I’ll help you with your back?” Kurt offered, startling Blaine. The slave looked down at the water and nodded. Kurt reached to the other end of the tub and turned the wheel that opened the drain before turning on the water faucet again, making new warm water pour into the tub, mixing with the dirty water. After two minutes or so the water looked mostly clear again. Blaine handed him the sponge that he had wrung out carefully so Kurt wouldn’t have to touch his dirty sponge. 

“Lean forward a little, please?”

Blaine obeyed immediately, leaning forward onto his up-pulled knees, exposing his entire back. 

Kurt laid a steadying hand on Blaine’s shoulder and started by dragging the sponge over the back of his neck gently and slowly worked his way down his back and shoulders. Most of the blood and grime had been flushed away by Blaine’s prolonged stay in the tub, but Kurt rinsed the remaining dirt away gently. He could feel Blaine gradually relax under his ministrations. 

When he was done he rinsed out the sponge once more and laid it down on the edge of the tub.

“Now all that’s left is your hair, why don’t you lean back and get it wet so I can work some shampoo in?”, Kurt suggested. Blaine delayed the execution of this request longer than he ever had with anything Kurt had asked so far, but finally lowered his head into the water. 

Kurt didn’t miss the way he held on to the edges of the tub with both hands so hard his knuckles turned white. He poured a generous amount of shampoo on his hand when Blaine sat back up. 

“Tilt your head back for me, please. I don’t want to get any shampoo in your eyes.” Blaine did as he was told, looking wary. 

With a deep breath, Kurt started running his fingers over the other boy’s scalp, trying not to pull at the knots in his hair. After a little while shampoo foam turned the same brownish grey as the bathwater had earlier. Kurt sighed. 

“When was the last time you had a bath or shower?”, he asked Blaine, not entirely sure whether or not he really wanted to hear the answer.

“I’m not sure, what day is it?”, Blaine asked carefully.

“The 29th”, Kurt told him. 

Blaine swallowed hard “Almost three weeks ago, Si.. Kurt”, he caught himself and flinched at his slip up. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s no problem at all”, Kurt assured him.

“Now, I need you to lean back so your hair is in the water. I’ll rinse it out for you.” 

Blaine did as he was told, but just as Kurt reached for his hair in the water, he panicked.

“Please NO!”, he yelped, losing his grip on the edge of the tub, his body slipping from the bottom of the tub, causing him to fall backwards.

It was all Kurt could do to place his hand between the back of Blaine’s head and the tub’s wall to keep Blaine from hitting it. He couldn’t prevent the boy’s face from slipping under the surface though. Blaine’s limbs flailed in his panic, splashing water everywhere. Kurt grabbed a hold on him under his arms and pulled him out over the water’s surface. He kept his hold to prevent Blaine from slipping under again, the other boy was still panicking. 

“Shh, you’re okay, I’ve got you”, he dabbed Blaine’s face with towel using one hand and kept him in a sitting position with his other arm, all the while mumbling what he hoped to be comforting reassurances. The soapy water had to sting in his eyes, because after a few deep breaths Blaine took a hold of the towel and rubbed at his eyes and face furiously.

“I’m sorry”, he cried. 

“It’s okay, you were just scared, I understand.” Kurt rubbed Blaine’s upper arm in an attempt to sooth him. 

“Did you get the shampoo out of your eyes?”, he asked to distract Blaine from his obvious fear. 

Blaine nodded, handing the towel back to Kurt. 

Kurt reached for the shower head and held it out for Blaine to inspect. “How about we try and rinse your hair with this? All you have to do is tilt your head back, I promise I won’t hurt you, okay?” 

The boy in the tub eyed the showerhead carefully and gave his nod of consent. “Good”, Kurt said, smiling in a way he hoped was reassuring. 

Blaine tilted his head back and allowed Kurt to run the warm water over his head. 

“Do you mind if we try this again? I’d like to put some conditioner in your hair, that way it’ll be easier to comb it later, but we don’t have to do that if you’re still too shaken.” Kurt hoped he had phrased this in a way that actually let Blaine know he could pick between the two options. Blaine nodded, although it was tentative at best. 

This time it was easier to drag his fingers through Blaine’s curly hair and Kurt made a bigger effort to massage the other boy’s skull in a pleasant way. He seemed to be succeeding, if the small sigh that escaped Blaine’s lips was an indicator. When he was done, he reached for the showerhead once more. 

“Tilt your head back for me again, please?” Kurt asked and Blaine looked over his shoulder to make sure Kurt was actually planning to use the showerhead. 

Kurt kept a hand on his forehead to prevent the soapy water to wash into Blaine’s eyes and then moved on to gently rinsing the rest of the conditioner out of Blaine’s hair. 

“There you go, all cleaned up. You did very well, thank you!” He praised after he had finished. “Now let’s get you out of this tub. The water has to be getting cold by now.”

Blaine let Kurt help him step out of the shower and allowed himself to be wrapped up in a fluffy white bathrobe before Kurt sat him back onto the chair he had occupied earlier. 

“Wait here for a moment. I’ll go and find some clothes for you.” Kurt told him. 

“Clothes?”, Blaine whispered to himself. 

His eyes widened almost comically when Kurt came back with warm looking flannel pajamas for him a minute later. He couldn’t believe his luck.


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt put the clothes down on the sink and looked Blaine over, the boy’s hair still needed combing and his beard a proper trimming, but he wasn’t sure if he should propose either. Combing the messy tangled curls would probably hurt and his cheeks already looked as if his beard had been shaved off with a blunt razor, which it probably had been. Kurt really didn’t want to cause the slave any more pain than he was probably in already. Blaine had looked up slightly when he had put the clothes down, his eyes were fixed on them and he looked so hopeful. 

“My dad just got back”, Kurt told him. “He called Doctor Holland, she’ll be here to examine you soon.” Blaine’s eyes shot up, Kurt could tell he was confused. “She’s really nice, I promise. “ Blaine was looking at the floor again. “Thank you, Ma… Si… Kurt”, he flinched, looking longingly at the clothes. 

“How about you put …” Kurt was about to suggest putting on the pajamas, when his eyes caught on Blaine’s legs that had been left exposed by the robe from the knees down. 

“Can I have a look at your knees?” He asked. Blaine immediately raised the bathrobe’s hem to the middle of his thighs. Kurt knelt down on the tiles in front of him to have a closer look. 

The area above both of Blaine’s knees was swollen to a frightening size. Kurt frowned, looking up at Blaine. “How long have they been like this?” Kurt asked. 

Blaine shook his head “I don’t know! A while, I don’t know what’s wrong with them, I’m scared, I’m sorry!” Kurt could see tears threatening to spill down the other boy’s cheeks.

“Do they hurt?” He asked, because they sure looked painful. Blaine nodded. 

“Okay, don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing. We’ll ask the doctor to have a look at them, alright?” Another nod from the slave boy.

“Now, how about you put on your pajamas, we’ll get you some clothes of your own soon, but for now I hope you’re okay with borrowing mine.” Blaine’s eyes widened. 

“Yours?” He asked disbelievingly. 

“Yes, I promised they’ve been freshly washed and pressed”, Kurt said trying to sound nonchalant. 

Blaine looked puzzled but reached for the warm, soft pajama shirt anyway. Kurt turned his back and busied himself looking for something in the cupboard. When Kurt turned back around, toothbrush in hand, Blaine had managed to put on his pajamas and fold the robe neatly. He looked so small in the blue plaid clothes that Kurt wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and give him cookies and milk. 

“Here”, he held the new toothbrush out for Blaine to take. Blaine just stared at it. “You know how to use this right?” Kurt asked uncertainly.

“This toothbrush… it’s for me?” Blaine asked cautiously. 

“Erm… yeah, it’s yours” Kurt said hesitantly “here, let’s put your name on it?” He opened the mirrored cupboard above the sink and pulled out a sharpie that the Hummel-Hudson’s used for exactly this purpose. He wrote “BLAINE” on the handle and held it out for Blaine to read. 

“How’s that?” Kurt asked, smiling at Blaine’s blissful expression as he took the brush from Kurt.

“Thank you!” Blaine gasped, holding the brush as if it was made of glass.  
Kurt decided not to ask why this was so precious to Blaine, he vaguely remembered one of his father’s slaves telling him that his traders had only given him a small paper cup of mouthwash a day, because running water was too expensive to acquire for slaves of a travelling market. He handed Blaine the toothpaste when the other boy was about to shove the brush in his mouth with only water on it and stepped away to give Blaine a little privacy. 

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Kurt?” 

Kurt opened the door to let his father in. Blaine ceased brushing his teeth and seemed unsure of what to do. “Keep going, kid.” Burt told him, Blaine did. 

“Doctor Holland’s here, she’s waiting in the kitchen.” Burt said. “You two join us when you’re done?”

Kurt looked back over his shoulder to see how Blaine was doing. “We’ll be out in a minute, dad.”

Burt nodded approvingly and closed the bathroom door behind him as he left. 

A few minutes later Kurt guided Blaine into the kitchen, where Burt and Dr. Holland were waiting for them at the table. Kurt had met Dr. Holland on multiple occasions, mainly whenever Burt had brought a new slave home. She was a nice lady in her early 40’s, her blonde hair was always pulled into a loose bun and she was always friendly. Not just to Kurt and his family, but to the slaves as well in just the same way. Although she had never explicitly expressed her opinion on slavery to Kurt, he was certain she shared his belief. Burt Hummel would never let someone who didn’t and was therefore a potential danger near his slaves. 

The doctor had set up a portable examination table next to the kitchen table. When she noticed them she got up to greet them. 

“Hello Kurt, good to see you again”, she shook his hand before turning to the boy who was almost hiding behind Kurt.

“And you must be Blaine, hi, it’s good to meet you. I’m Dr. Holland.” Her smile was warm. “Now Burt here tells me that you’ve been hurt, so if you would like me to, I’d like to have a look at you. Would that be alright with you?” She asked Blaine, Kurt noticed that the other boy didn’t seem nearly as frightened of her as he had been when Kurt had first mentioned a doctor. Kurt had always thought she had a talent of putting people at ease.

Blaine nodded in answer of her question. “Would you sit down on my table for me?” She offered her hand to help him, but he didn’t take it, choosing instead to crawl onto the exam table on his own. 

“Very good! Thank you, Blaine.” The doctor praised. “Would you like to do this examination alone or would you like Kurt and Burt to stay?” She asked. Blaine bit his lip. Kurt could tell he was uncertain whether he actually had a choice here. He looked towards Burt and then at Kurt pleadingly. Kurt wasn’t sure how to interpret this, but apparently Burt did.

“I’ll just wait in the living room” the older Hummel man said, he gently placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder as he passed him and left the kitchen.

“Now, I’m going to examine you all over, if that’s alright with you Blaine, but I’d like to take care of anything that’s causing you immediate pain first. I can see you have a black eye, but that’s already healing, not much we can do about that right now, but I will write you a prescription for a salve that’ll help the bruises heal faster. Your lip doesn’t need to be stitched, we’ll disinfect it and put some ointment on it later and then cover it with a little Vaseline, so you can eat without worrying about getting it infected. Can you tell me if anything else is hurting you?” Blaine looked from her to Kurt in distress, his eyes finally settling on Kurt again. “Or maybe Kurt can help us out a little?” She asked. 

“Oh erm… yeah, sure”, Kurt said, startled to be addressed. He thought for a moment, not sure where to start. “There are whip marks on his back, those must be really painful.” He began. The doctor nodded and turned back to Blaine. “Would it be okay if I looked at those?” She asked.

“Of course, Madam”, Blaine seemed to have found his voice again and unbuttoned his pajama top immediately. 

“Please lay down on your stomach for me.” The doctor instructed him when he was done, Blaine obeyed. 

Dr. Holland examined the welts and cuts for a while before telling the boys that none of them are infected yet. “I’ll have to clean the cuts before I can apply ointment and bandages, it will probably sting and hurt. Would you like Kurt to hold your hand, Blaine?” She asked. 

Blaine didn’t react. Kurt couldn’t see his face from where he was still standing near the door, but he could see the boy tense. Making up his own mind Kurt pulled up a chair next to the exam table so he was seated at the level of Blaine’s head, he hoped it was the right decision, but Blaine hadn’t even asked him for toothpaste, Kurt suspected he would probably not ask for this even if he wanted it. 

Kurt held out his hand for Blaine, the other boy looked at it in disbelief at first, but when Dr. Holland started dabbing Blaine’s first cut with antiseptic he latched onto it, biting his lip as he waited for Kurt’s reaction. Kurt just smiled at him encouragingly and brought his other hand up to caress the back of Blaine’s hand. 

Blaine relaxed a little, Kurt could tell that the antiseptic was hurting him, but the slave boy looked almost at ease now. Kurt continued to run his thumb softly over Blaine’s hand as the other boy closed his eyes, letting the doctor work.

When she was done she asked Blaine to sit up so she could have a look at the rest of his torso. She listened to his lungs and his heart and wrote up another ointment for the bruises on his torso in her prescription pad. She patted down his ribcage and his arms, feeling for cracked and broken bones. 

“Have you had your ribs broken before?” She asked Blaine. The boy nodded.

“Kurt, would you mind bringing Blaine by my office sometime this week? I’d like to take an x-ray of his chest and one of his left upper arm to see if they’ve healed well enough on their own.” Kurt agreed and the doctor asked Blaine if he was wearing underwear and Kurt was glad he had given him a pair of his own boxers earlier.

Blaine removed his pajama pants when Dr. Holland asked him to and sat back down, his legs dangling from the examination table. He bit his lips, when a whimper escaped them. 

“What’s wrong, dear?” Dr. Holland asked in concern, looking up from where she was exchanging the surgical gloves that had been stained slightly by the cuts on Blaine’s back for new ones. 

“I’m sorry, Madam,” Blaine apologized, “Please, what’s wrong with my legs?” Kurt could see the boy shaking slightly.

Dr. Holland put on her second glove and sat down on a second chair next to Kurt’s, right in front of Blaine’s dangling legs. She carefully prodded the swollen knee and then gently laid her hand on Blaine’s lower leg. 

“It’s called prepatellar bursitis, it’s more commonly known as slave’s knee. It’s caused by kneeling for extended periods of time. It doesn’t seem infected, so for now I just want you to stay off your knees. If the swelling hasn’t gone down in a week I’ll have a look at it again and we’ll discuss it further, but you’ll be alright, I promise.” 

Blaine visibly relaxed at her words and even gave her a smile.

“Dr. Holland, the traders said that Blaine had been diagnosed with syphilis”, Kurt had almost forgotten the reason Blaine had been in the situation he found him in, because his visible injuries overshadowed everything in Kurt’s mind. Blaine’s face had gone pale.

The doctor frowned and nodded. “Would you step outside for the rest of this examination, Kurt?” She asked. “I’ll give you an update afterwards, I promise.” Kurt nodded and stepped outside, but not before giving Blaine a reassuring smile.

 

Author’s note: The condition is actually better known as “Housemaid’s knee”, but I figured in this particular alternate universe housemaids don’t really exist, people have slaves for that. I would also like to say that I am not a medical professional so all my information on the conditions mentioned come from the internet, so if anything is inaccurate, I’m sorry, I hope you’ll forgive me.


	8. Chapter 8

Kurt closed the kitchen’s door behind him and joined his father in the living room. Burt had turned on the television but Kurt could tell he wasn’t paying attention to the muted ice hockey game. He dropped down on the couch next to his dad and let his head fall on the older man’s shoulder. 

“How’s it going in there?” Burt asked quietly, draping his arm around Kurt’s shoulder.

“I don’t know. She sent me out. I’m guessing it’s probably to examine him in … to examine his”, Kurt felt himself blush from embarrassment “his private areas.” He continued quickly. “There are bruises and whip marks everywhere and he’s so thin, dad, he looks like he’s about to collapse any minute.”

“Is that why you got him?” Burt frowned at his son. Kurt shook his head.

“Someone gave him syphilis, they were gonna kill him right there. They had him on the ground and” Kurt paused, taking a deep breath, he felt sick “and one of them was going to stick a needle in him. I had to get him, dad.” His voice broke, the image was too fresh and too vivid in his mind. 

“Please don’t be mad at me.” 

Burt’s arm tightened around Kurt pulling him in closer. 

“You did good, son.” He whispered, pressing a kiss on the top of Kurt’s head. “We’ll keep him here for now, set up the guest room for him.” 

Kurt sighed in relief, he hadn’t doubted that his father would allow him to keep Blaine, but he had been worried that his father would insist on sending Blaine to the garage, where the other slaves who were currently in the Hudson-Hummel’s possession lived. Burt had converted the second story of the building into a huge apartment that the slaves shared. Most of them had their own rooms and they all shared a big bathroom and a small kitchen. Carole and Burt brought groceries and other things by twice a week so they could look after themselves and be at peace there. 

While Kurt liked the other slaves and trusted them, he felt personally responsible for Blaine and wanted to keep him close. He wanted to be the one to take care of Blaine, to make sure that he would get better. 

 

“Kurt, would you mind coming back in for a bit?” Doctor Holland called from the kitchen 5 minutes later. He was up in a flash, leaving his dad on the couch.

Blaine had drawn his knees up to his chest (Kurt wondered if he position was hurting him) and had his face buried in the palms of his hand. “What’s going on?” He asked the doctor urgently.

She sighed, looking over at Blaine with a pained expression on her face. “I’m afraid Blaine isn’t very fond of needles. I have to draw some blood to test for sexually transmitted infections again” she added at Kurt’s confused look “Maybe you could try to calm him down a bit, I don’t want to have to sedate him.” 

Kurt nodded gravely, and he pulled up his chair in front of Blaine once more and sat down.

“Blaine?” his voice was soft enough not to startle the other boy. “Look at me, please?” Blaine’s hands dropped immediately, revealing his pale face and tear streaked cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… I’m…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for”, Kurt assured him. “Did Dr. Holland explain what the needle is for?” He asked. Blaine nodded, his eyes darting towards the doctor uncertainly.

“I promise this is not a trick or something, this is just so you can get better. We need to see how long you’ve been infected with this STD, so the doctor can treat you properly. The needle is going to sting, but it’ll be over fast and then you can put your clothes back on and we can get you something to eat. Does that sound okay?” Blaine’s eyes fixed on him intently as he nodded. 

“You’ve done very well so far.” Kurt praised, he extended his hand to Blaine “How about you take my hand and look at me while Doctor Holland draws some blood from your…arm?” He asked looking at the doctor who nodded in response. 

Blaine looked uncertain, but he tentatively inched his hand towards Kurt’s until their palms were touching, just barely. Kurt wrapped his fingers around Blaine’s hand slowly, giving the other boy plenty of time to pull away. 

“You know, when I had to get shots when I was little my dad always used to tell me about…”

Blaine yelped and tore his hand from Kurt’s with so much force that it almost sent him flying off the other end of the exam table when Doctor Holland swabbed his arm with disinfectant. 

“Please! No! Oh god, please don’t!” Fresh tears were spilling down his cheeks. He curled up into a fetal position on the table as if to shield himself from blows that wouldn’t come. Kurt’s heart broke for him and he exchanged a helpless glance with Doctor Holland. 

An idea shot through his mind and on a whim Kurt rolled up his sleeve, hoping with all his heart that this would work.

“Doctor Holland? Would you mind drawing a vial of my blood as well?” Kurt asked. Doctor Holland frowned for a moment before catching on. 

“Of course, no problem at all.” She said. “How about you sit down on the table?”

Kurt did as she told him, sitting in a way that gave Blaine a clear few at his outstretched arm. The boy met his glance, his eyes wide. “Would you like to watch?” Kurt asked conversationally “It’s not that bad, I swear. I’ve had blood drawn before, it’s a little unpleasant, but I promise it won’t be too bad.” 

“The sling is used to make the vein bulges so the doctor can see where to put the needle”, he explained, he wasn’t sure whether that was really the reason but he decided that it would probably be best to give Blaine a running commentary of what was happening, so he could see that they weren’t going to harm him. 

“The swab is to disinfect the area where the needle’s going to go in.” Kurt said, his eyes fixed on Blaine while Blaine’s where fixed on Kurt’s arm. 

Kurt didn’t as much feel the needle going in as he could see it on Blaine’s face. The boy’s eyes were wide in horror. That is, until he looked up at Kurt’s calm face. Kurt smiled at him reassuringly “It doesn’t really hurt, I promise. “ The look on Blaine’s face was unreadable. He averted his gaze back to Kurt’s arm and uncurled from his position slightly to get a better look, watching the vial fill with Kurt’s blood. When it was full enough the doctor removed the needle and immediately pressed a piece of gauze to the place it had been in. Kurt took a hold of it and pressed down hard. “This is so the wound doesn’t keep bleeding. It’ll stop in a minute.” Kurt explained. 

“Si-Kurt… I think I can do … that”, Blaine whispered. 

“Really?” Kurt asked smiling brightly when Blaine nodded carefully. 

And he did. After the doctor had replaced Kurt’s gauze with a band aid a few minutes later Blaine was sitting on the edge of the exam table once more, holding his arm out bravely. 

He didn’t watch the doctor draw his blood though, his eyes were fixed on Kurt who told him about how his dad used to distract him when he had to get shots as a little boy. Kurt wasn’t sure whether or not Blaine was actually listening to his story, but it didn’t matter because the boy was holding onto his hand and looking at him as though Kurt had hung the moon in the sky for him.


	9. Chapter 9

“I will call you in a few days when I get the result of Blaine’s blood work and we’ll make an appointment for his x-rays and syphilis shots. I’d like to talk to you outside for a bit, Kurt, if you’ll excuse us for a minute, Blaine?”

Kurt allowed himself to be led out of the kitchen and back into the living room, Burt had vacated the room at some point, so it was empty. Dr. Holland took a seat on the sofa chair, while he sat down on the couch.

“Now, Kurt, I know this is an unpleasant topic, but I’m sure you’re aware of what Blaine’s previous owners used him for.” The doctor looked around and on second thought added “Would you like your father to be here for this conversation?”

Kurt shook his head grimly, he really didn’t. His eyes darted to the kitchen door that separated them from Blaine, he hoped their absence didn’t frighten the boy.

“I sent you out earlier so I could examine him in private and”, she sighed, rubbing her forehead, her usual smile had vanished from her face. Somehow Kurt was glad that this wasn’t easy for the doctor either. “I found a lot of scarring to his anal tissue, some of it rather old as far as I could tell. That indicates that he has been raped repeatedly over a long time. You’ve seen the way he reacts when someone tries to touch him. Kurt”, she looked at him very earnestly “I know you’re a good kid and you didn’t buy him to use him or hurt him, but that boy, he’s very fragile and people have hurt him … a lot.” Kurt nodded grimly. “You’ll have to be really careful and patient with him, if you want him to get well.” 

“I do, I will be” he said seriously. Doctor Holland leaned against the back of the chair, nodding as if she was relieved about his answer.

“I found a chancre on him, that’s an open sore that usually appears in the first stage of syphilis”, she explained “given the situation it’s the best possible scenario, really, it means that it’s easily curable. I’m going to run his blood and test for other diseases as well, so we can be sure there isn’t more, but if there isn’t I’ll give him a shot of penicillin when you come to my office next week and that should be it for the syphilis.” She sighed. “There will be a follow up exam later, but I will tell you all about that when you come by next week, I think you’ve had enough to stomach for one day. We’ll decide what to do about his knees then as well.”

At that Kurt frowned “I thought they’ll heal on their own?”

“Maybe, but if they don’t we’ll have to drain them and treat them, but right now this kind of treatment would interfere with his STD treatment, so for now, just keep him off his knees.” 

Kurt buried his face in his hands and ran them over his face, there was just too much to absorb and process. The doctor smiled at him sympathetically. “It’s gonna be okay.” She whispered softly.

“Do you have any immediate questions?” Doctor Holland asked. He thought hard. “If something comes up later, your dad has my number, you can call me any time, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you.” He was about to tell her he didn’t have any questions when his stomach growled. “He’s so thin, do you think he’s up for regular food?”

The doctor shook her head and provided him with a list of food that Blaine could stomach, before handing him the prescription she had written up for Blaine, so Kurt could pick it up at the pharmacy. 

“I’m afraid I have to get going, I have another patient waiting for me,” she told him. Kurt nodded and got up to shake her hand.

“Thank you so much for coming by.” Kurt said not entirely sure how to express his gratitude sufficiently, but the doctor seemed to understand anyway. 

 

The doctor left after saying a brief goodbye to Burt and Blaine. She packed up her examination table in a hurry leaving Blaine standing in the centre of the kitchen in only Kurt’s underwear.

“Erm… you can put on your pajamas again, if you want, it’s a little cold in here,” Kurt said and Blaine immediately did as he told him, looking relieved to be allowed to cover himself again. Kurt looked down at the boy’s bare feet. “Sit down on a chair when you’re done, I’ll be right back.” He told Blaine.

A minute later he returned with a thick pair of socks he hoped would fit the other boy. As he had been told, Blaine was sitting on one of the kitchen chair’s waiting for Kurt. 

“Are your feet cold?” Kurt asked him. Blaine looked up at him carefully as if trying to assess whether this was a trick question. Kurt held out the socks for him, smiling when Blaine took them from him. His smile faded when Blaine winced as he bent down to place them on his bare feet. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, careful!” Blaine shot back up to a sitting position, startled. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think”, Kurt crouched down to the floor in front of Blaine’s chair “that has to hurt your back, here give me the socks.” 

He could have slapped himself for his phrasing when he saw the sad, longing look Blaine gave the socks before handing them back over to Kurt. 

“Oh no, I’m not taking them… they’re for you, I just … here let me help you okay? Can I put them on for you?” Kurt scolded himself inside, he needed to think more carefully about what he said and he had to calm down, otherwise he’d just make the other boy more nervous with his confused rambling. Blaine certainly looked unsure. Kurt reached out a careful hand for Blaine’s left foot where he had slung it around one of the chair’s legs when Kurt had startled him. He took a loose hold of it and Blaine allowed him to guide it out from under the chair and watched Kurt as he pulled the first sock gently onto his foot. To Kurt’s delight Blaine held out his other foot for him without Kurt’s beckoning. 

Kurt smiled up at Blaine brightly when his feet were sock-clad. “Very well done, thank you.” 

“Thank you, Ma-Kurt”, Blaine whispered, his face twitching at his slip up. 

“It’s okay, don’t worry”, Kurt cut him off before he could apologize. “You’ve been calling people Master for a long time, I won’t be mad if you can’t shake the habit that fast. I promise I won’t hurt you, if you slip up and call me master, I just want you to know that you can call me by my name.” 

Blaine nodded eagerly. Kurt smiled. 

“Alright, Finn and Carole will be home soon, they are my step mom and step brother. They are really nice, but they don’t know you’re here yet, so don’t be scared if they want to shake your hand or something, okay?” Blaine nodded. “Also Finn is really tall and intimidating, but he’s just a big teddy bear, they’re not gonna hurt you. In fact, no one will hurt you here, try to remember that, okay?” Blaine nodded once more, it wasn’t as convincing as it had been before, but Kurt was satisfied for now.

“I’ll start making dinner, would you like to sit here while I do or are you tired?” Kurt asked.

Blaine seemed uncertain for a moment but then looked up at Kurt “May I sit here with you?”

“Of course”, Kurt smiled at him and got to work.

 

Dinner was almost done when he heard Carole’s car pull up in the driveway. Blaine had offered to help him with the cooking, but Kurt was worried he might fall over from exhaustion and burn himself on the stove, so he had asked Blaine to remain on his chair. 

The front door was slammed shut, making Blaine jump and Kurt made a mental note to have another talk about the proper handling of doors with Finn at some point, but for now there were more important things to deal with. 

He could hear his father talking urgently to Carole and Finn by the door interrupted by Carole’s low voice. 

Kurt sighed in relief that he wouldn’t have to explain the situation yet again when the kitchen door was pushed open so hard it slammed into the door stopper with a bang.

“What the hell, man?!” Finn snapped “You go out and get yourself a sex toy when Burt refuses to even get a house slave? I thought you didn’t even like slaves, why would you-“

“Stop yelling, Finn!” Kurt snapped before lowering his voice “Can’t you see you’re scaring him?” 

Finn took a proper look at the slave boy sitting in their kitchen for the first time, the anger vanishing from his face instantly. Burt and Carole had followed Finn into the kitchen, watching the scene in front of them with worried looks on their faces. 

Kurt was glad they didn’t come into the kitchen, Blaine was shaking in his seat, eyes lowered to the floor in front of him, crowding him wouldn’t make it better. 

“It’s alright, Blaine,” Kurt said gently “Finn didn’t mean it. Did he?” He directed the last part to Finn, glaring at his brother.

“I’m… I’m sorry, dude.” He looked back at his mom and Burt. “What’s going on?”

“Honey if you’d just listen…”, Carole sighed shaking her head. 

“Let’s sit down on the couch, okay?” Burt suggested, leading both Hudson’s out of the kitchen. He looked back at Kurt apologetically and closed the door, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone in the kitchen once more. 

“I’m so sorry”, Kurt whispered so he wouldn’t startle the other boy. “Finn didn’t know why you’re here, he just overreacted. I know that was scary, but dad’s explaining it to him right now and it won’t happen again, okay?”

“Please, Kurt, what…” Blaine’s breath hitched, he looked up and Kurt could see his lower lip quivering “What will you do with me?”

Kurt frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I-… He sa- … Your brother said you didn’t like slaves, what will you…”, Blaine lowered his gaze again, not daring to finish his sentence, or maybe he was afraid of Kurt’s answer. Kurt bit his lip silently cursing Finn for his ignorance, while trying to think of something to say that would put Blaine at ease again.

“Please don’t send me away.” Blaine whispered so quietly that Kurt wouldn’t have heard him if it hadn’t been completely silent in the kitchen.

Kurt’s heart sank.

“Oh no, Blaine, no, look at me”, Kurt cringed inwardly at how fast Blaine’s head snapped up to look at him. “I’m not sending you away, ever. Unless you want to leave, you can stay here, okay?” He paused for a moment not sure how to phrase this in a way that couldn’t be misunderstood. Blaine was looking at the floor again, shaking. 

“If you ever decide you want to leave, please talk to me first okay, right now I am willing to beg for you to stay.” He dropped to his knees in front of Blaine effectively forcing the other boy to meet his eyes. “You’re so hurt and I can tell you’re scared. I just want you to get better. I want to know that you’re safe here, with us.” Kurt felt tears well up in his own eyes. “I know you don’t know me and I understand that you can’t trust me yet, I do, but I promise I just want to take care of you. Nothing more. Please, will you try to believe me?”

Blaine was shaking harder still. His eyes were wide and fixed on the boy at his knees.

Kurt tentatively reached for Blaine’s hand and held it between both of his own. Blaine looked at their joined hands, doubt still obvious in his features. He searched Kurt’s face intently and waited for the other shoe to drop.

But Kurt just kept holding onto him gently, running his thumbs over Blaine’s callous hand and waiting patiently.

After what seemed like an eternity Blaine nodded. 

“Thank you.” Kurt whispered, smiling up at Blaine.


	10. Chapter 10

When he was sure Blaine was going to be alright for the moment Kurt loaded the grilled chicken wraps he had been making on a big plate and placed them in the middle of the kitchen table before setting the table, after setting three regular plates he put the fourth one back into the cupboard and took out two soup plates. He didn’t want Blaine to be the only one at the table who didn’t get solid food. Blaine was staring at the empty plate that had been set in front of him as though it was a particularly challenging puzzle he had to solve. 

“Let’s see if the others are ready for dinner, shall we?” Kurt asked, opening the kitchen door and leaning out so he could glance into the living room. Upon seeing that his parents and Finn seemed to be done discussing the situation he called them to dinner.

“It looks lovely, Kurt”, Carole complimented Kurt when she entered the kitchen, before turning to Blaine, smiling warmly. 

“Hello, dear. I’m Carole”, she seemed to be uncertain whether or not to approach him for a moment and settled on giving him space for now “I’m Kurt’s step mom. I’m sorry Finn was so loud earlier, he was caught off guard. I’m very glad you’re here with us tonight though.” 

She sat down on her usual spot on the other side of the table from Blaine when Finn and Burt joined them, both sitting down on either side of Carole, so that Finn ended up sitting next to Blaine. 

“Sorry for the yelling”, he said awkwardly, not looking at Blaine, but staring at his plate instead. 

“Start eating, the food’s getting cold”, Kurt ordered, interrupting the slightly uncomfortable silence. The remaining Hummel-Hudson’s reached for the wraps while Kurt was busy placing the pot with the chicken soup on the table before taking a seat at Blaine’s other side. 

He scooped two spoons full of soup into Blaine’s plate before serving himself the same thing. “Okay, careful, it’s still hot”, he warned the other boy.

Blaine didn’t reach for his spoon. 

Kurt didn’t quite know what to say, he had a sinking feeling that maybe Blaine thought the soup wasn’t meant for him or that Kurt had just given it to him as a joke of some sorts. 

He settled for simply asking “You don’t like soup?”

Blaine’s eyes shot up. “It smells very good.” He whispered as though that would answer Kurt’s question.

“You don’t have to eat it, if you really don’t want to, but you know you can, right?” Kurt asked softly.

“I-… I can have some of this?” Blaine asked, hope thick in his voice.

Kurt nodded, taking a spoon full from his own plate hoping to set an example for Blaine.

Blaine tentatively took the spoon in hand and experimentally dipped it into the soup. He guided a small spoonful to his mouth, his eyes fixed on Kurt waiting for a reaction. Kurt just smiled at him and looked down into his own plate, focusing on his food only occasionally sneaking a glance at Blaine eating from the corner of his eyes. 

“Dude”, Finn said from across the table. “He’s so skinny, you should feed him some proper food! Here, have a wrap!” He held a wrap in front of Blaine’s face, causing Blaine to flinch back from the sudden invasion of his personal space. His eyes went wide when he saw what was being held out in front of him.

“No!” Kurt called, both Finn and Blaine looked up at him startled. Kurt snatched the wrap from Finn’s hand and placed it back on Finn’s plate. “He can’t have anything solid, he can’t stomach that yet, just eat your dinner and mind your own business.” It sounded a lot harsher than he had intended it to, but he had explicit orders to not let Blaine have more than he could digest, which at the moment wouldn’t be very much.

“Kurt’s right Finn”, Carole jumped in, backing Kurt up. He didn’t pay attention to what she explained to Finn though, because Blaine looked utterly crestfallen at the sight of his now empty plate.

 

An hour later Kurt was making up the guest bed for Blaine, mentally kicking himself. He should have taken more time to explain to the other boy exactly why he couldn’t have any more food at the moment. He obviously hadn’t entirely understood or otherwise he wouldn’t have looked so sad, would he?

Blaine as in the next room, brushing his teeth again, he had looked delighted when Kurt had suggested he do that again before going to bed.

Kurt heard the soft footfall of socked feet approach the room and turned to see Blaine nervously wringing his hands. “May I use the … the toilet?”

Kurt was dumbfounded. “Yeah, yes. Yes, definitely, of course you can.” He stuttered, shaking his head to clear it. “Whenever you want”, he said, just to make sure there was no misunderstanding. “Erm… use as much toiletpaper as you like” Kurt added awkwardly.

“Thank you!” Blaine gasped before hurrying back to the bathroom as fast as his weak legs would carry him, leaving Kurt alone to wander what this request had been about and whether Blaine hadn’t always been allowed to… No, he wouldn’t go there. The day had been too long and straining already. 

Kurt was glad he seemed to have regained some strength after having dinner and taking the medication Carole had picked up at the pharmacy for him. The bed was ready when Blaine returned once more.

“Can I slee-… could… Where may I sleep, Kurt?” He asked, very quietly.

“Here, I just made up the bed for you.” Kurt kept his voice as cheery as he could. “Do you wanna lie down? It’s been a really long day, I’ll go to bed soon as well.” He pulled back the blanket for Blaine, gesturing for him to crawl in. 

Slowly, never taking his eyes off Kurt Blaine sat himself down on the mattress.

“How do I please you?” Blaine asked, looking up at Kurt carefully.

The nauseas feeling that had been rising up in Kurt’s stomach off and on all day as back full force. 

“You don’t have to please me, Blaine. I just want you to have a good night’s rest, okay?” He pulled the blanket up, gently guiding Blaine into a horizontal position, tucking him in gently.

“If you need anything in the night, anything at all, no matter what, don’t hesitate to call for me, okay? My room is on the upper floor, but I’ll keep my door open, so if you call for me I should be able to hear you, okay?” Kurt explained as patiently and with as much emphasis as he would to a child suffering from nightmares

Blaine nodded, eyes darting nervously to Kurt’s hands that were still holding onto Blaine’s blanket.

Kurt sighed deeply. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Try and sleep well.”

He got up slowly and walked out the door, leaving it open just a crack before heading to his own room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Exhausted, Kurt lay on the bed, hugging one of his pillows to his chest as hard as he could, letting silent tears roll down his cheeks. Sleep wouldn’t come. He watched his alarm clock go from 9 pm to 11 pm without drifting off once. His mind full of horrifying images of Blaine, the slaves at the market, Blaine being whipped, the trader and his syringe,…

There was an urgent knock on his door. He ignored it, he knew it was Finn by the way his knuckles pounded against the wood. “Kurt?”

“Kurt, Kurt, come on please!”

“Please go away, Finn, I don’t wanna talk right now.” Kurt said quietly. Finn opened the door anyway.

“No, dude you gotta get up! I think I did something awful.”

“You did, Finn, you really shouldn’t have yelled at him, he was terrified and-“ He stopped when he saw how pale Finn looked.

“It’s Blaine.” Finn said.

“What happened?” Kurt’s eyes widened and he was on his feet pushing past Finn and running down the stairs within seconds.


	11. Chapter 11

The door to Blaine’s room was open when Kurt barged in. 

The smell of vomit hit him, making his stomach turn.

There was no light in the room other than what fell in from the corridor and Kurt squinted in an attempt to make out Blaine. Failing to see the other boy he turned on the light. 

Blaine wasn’t in his bed, but he obviously had been when he got sick for there was a large pile of vomit on the wooden floor in front of the bed at head level. 

Kurt’s heart sank, he looked around frantically for Blaine. He opened the closet doors and was about to drop to the floor to check under the bed when Finn caught up with him.

“I got him to the bathroom when I heard him puke”, he said.

“What the hell did you give him, Finn?” Kurt snapped. From the two spoonful of soup Blaine had had there should have never been such a large amount of sick.

Finn was looking at the floor and whispered “The leftover wraps from dinner.”

“You idiot!” Kurt yelled, sprinting for the bathroom. 

Blaine was kneeling in front of the toilet bowl, holding his stomach miserably. He looked up when Kurt joined him in the bathroom. His face was wet with tears and Kurt could see him shaking. 

“I’m so sorry, Master!” Blaine sobbed.

“Oh Blaine”, Kurt whispered softly, dropping down onto the tiled floor next to the other boy, causing Blaine to flinch. He didn’t know what to do. “Are you done for now or do you think you’ll be sick again?” He asked.

“I don’t know”, Blaine snivelled “I’m sorry!” 

“No, no don’t be. Come on, lean against me, we can’t have that much pressure on your knees!” Ignoring the way Blaine’s body was shaking at his every touch, he pulled the boy sideways against his chest, effectively pulling him off his knees, so the left side of Blaine’s face was resting on his right shoulder. Kurt leaned back a little so he himself could lean against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall.

“Please punish me as you see fit”, Blaine whispered. “I apologize for disobeying and for soiling your property.” Kurt could feel tears soaking through the pajamas fabric at his shoulder.

Kurt closed his eyes, stroking the other boys arm slightly in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “It’s not your fault”, he assured him. “I’m not gonna punish you, not for this. Not ever.”

“You said not to eat any more”, Blaine whispered still tense against his chest. “Master Finn said it was okay, I’m sorry. I should have listened to my owner, not to anyone else. I’m sorry. It was so good, I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Kurt looked over his shoulder to see Finn awkwardly standing in the bathroom door. “I didn’t know it was gonna make you sick, I just … you’re so skinny… I didn’t know.”

“I told you he couldn’t tolerate this type of food, so did your mom!” Kurt pointed out, speaking much softer than he had before, so he wouldn’t scare Blaine any more than he already did.

“I thought you were just being dramatic”, Finn admitted, his shoulders hunched. 

Kurt was about to reply when Blaine started struggling against his hold, he released him. Blaine barely managed to bend over the toilet before being sick again, hardly expelling anything from his stomach.

Cringing in sympathy Kurt watched him dry heave over the bowl. When Blaine was done he practically collapsed back towards Kurt, who reached out just in time to pull Blaine back against him.

“I’m sorry”, Blaine and Finn said at the exact same time. Kurt watched Blaine’s eyes close in exhaustion. Kurt glared up at Finn who had slowly inched closer and was now hovering over the two boys on the floor. 

“How can I make it better?” He asked. 

“You can’t”, Kurt said pointedly. 

“Kurt, please, let me help! There’s gotta be something I can do.” The desperate tone in Finn’s voice made Kurt look at him, really look at him, for the first time this evening. He looked crushed.

Kurt sighed, looking down at the boy, who was still tense against his chest as if he expected Kurt to hit him or push him away at any moment. “Get a washcloth and run warm water over it, then wring it out and give it to me.”

Looking back down at the boy in his arms, Kurt couldn’t help but notice the dark shadows under his eyes, he looked so tired. Blaine’s eyes shot open when Finn’s form blocked out the bathroom light that had been falling on him. He went rigid in Kurt’s grasp. 

“Thank you, Finn”, Kurt said calmly, taking the wash cloth from his brother. It was warm and soft in his left hand. “Why don’t you clean up the mess in Blaine’s room?” Finn looked relieved at being given another task to do and practically ran out of the room.

Blaine relaxed, but only marginally. He eyed the wash cloth with confusion and when he dared look up at his owner, Kurt could tell that he was still terrified. 

“How about we clean you up a little?” Kurt suggested nodding towards the wash cloth in his hand. 

Slowly he brought it closer to Blaine’s face until it was softly resting against his right cheek, before he started running it over his face carefully, cleaning away the layer of sweat, tears and other evidence of his being sick.

He could feel Blaine relax under his ministrations, closing his eyes again with a soft sigh. 

“I’m so sorry this happened”, Kurt whispered softly “I was hoping that nothing would hurt you any more now that you’re here with us.” He finished cleaning up Blaine’s face, discarding the wash cloth on the floor he started running his dry hand through Blaine’s still messy curls. 

“I should have explained better, Finn didn’t know you were gonna be sick and I bet you were hungry, so of course you ate what he gave you. It wasn’t your fault. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Blaine took a deep shuddering breath, tension draining from his muscles. Kurt knew he had to be saying the right things, so he kept talking.

“Your stomach doesn’t know how to deal with normal amounts of food yet, so we can’t give you too much right now. We’ll start again with soup tomorrow and some other things that should be easy for you to deal with and then we’ll slowly add new things and make your portions bigger. I promise I won’t make you go hungry. There will always be food for you.” 

Blaine’s eyes were closed but a teardrop still escaped him, travelling down his cheek, Kurt tightened his grip on the boy ever so slightly.

“It’s gonna be okay, you’ll be strong and healthy in no time.” Kurt promised. He stopped running his fingers through the other boys hair for a moment. “Are you feeling any better? Does your stomach hurt?” Blaine nodded, looking up at Kurt. “It’s better now, I don’t think I’ll be sick again now.”

“I brought you some water.” Finn returned to the bathroom, carrying two cups. He handed one to Kurt, to give to Blaine and took the other one to the sink.

Kurt held the cup close to Blaine’s mouth. “Small sips, okay? I don’t want you to get sick again.” Blaine nodded, taking a sip from the cup, before leaning back against Kurt. Finn handed him another cup “It’s mouthwash,” he explained.

Kurt smiled when Blaine reached for the cup, eagerly swirling the liquid in his mouth before spitting it back into the cup, which Kurt handed back to Finn. 

The bathroom was silent while Kurt had Blaine take another few sips of water over a couple of minutes. When it had become clear that nothing bad was going to happen to him, Blaine had gone slack against Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt was about to ask Blaine if he thought he could walk back to his room when Finn whispered “Dude, I think he fell asleep.” 

He was right.

“I’ll get him back to bed”, Kurt said “can you bring the water cup and open the doors?” 

“Are you sure you can carry him by yourself?” Finn asked uncertainly.

“Of course I can, he hardly weighs a thing.” Kurt assured his brother, placing his arms in position under Blaine’s knees and back, before carefully standing up and lifting the other boy off the floor with him, safely cradled against his chest.

He was going to bring Blaine back to the guest room, but the room now smelled of disinfectant and other cleaning supplies. The smell was thick enough to make Kurt’s nose wrinkle in disdain, so he wouldn’t risk having it make Blaine sick again. 

Instead Kurt backed out of the room and headed up the stairs, a confused Finn trailing behind him.

He carefully placed Blaine in his own bed, the covers were still thrown back from his abrupt departure earlier and for the second time that night, he tucked Blaine in. 

“Put the cup on the bedside table, I’ll go tell dad what’s going on”, Kurt knew better than to let his father find a slave in his bed the next morning, no matter how innocent a reason he had for it.

Before he left the room he placed his trash can next to the bed. 

“Watch him for a minute.” He instructed Finn in a whisper before heading to their parent’s room.

 

When he returned two minutes later with his dads sleepy approval he found Finn in the same position he left him, watching over Blaine’s sleeping form on the bed.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Finn asked.

“I hope so.” Kurt said.

Kurt sent Finn back to bed and took a seat in his arm chair on the other side of the bed. 

He was tired, but he couldn’t crawl into bed with Blaine, it would terrify him in the morning and he couldn’t do that to the poor boy.

He couldn’t sleep on the couch in the living room either for fear that Blaine might be sick again, might need him, choke on his own vomit or wake up not knowing where he was and fearing punishment.

No, Kurt would sit vigil on his bedside, no matter how dramatic it may be.

He had to make sure he was alright.


	12. Chapter 12

When Kurt woke up, it was light outside. He had known he would fall asleep at some point in the night, but he had hoped he wouldn’t sleep this long. He rubbed his eyes and sat up straight in his armchair. 

To his relief Blaine was still asleep on the bed. He was sleeping on his stomach with his face turned to the side, so his black eye wasn’t resting on the pillow. Kurt figured it must be the position that caused him the least pain. He couldn’t get over how small the other boy looked, his cheeks sunken in and the circles under his eyes still prominent. Blaine looked as peaceful in his sleep as Kurt wished he would feel while awake, but he knew that once the slave opened his eyes, the haunted expression would be back. The assumption that Kurt had terrible things in store for him would be clear in his eyes. Kurt couldn’t hold it against him, but that didn’t mean he knew how to deal with it. There was nothing he could say to put the boy at ease, he could only give him time.

Kurt’s stomach growled. He decided to let Blaine catch up on some more sleep, which Kurt figured he desperately needed and snuck out of the room as quietly as he could.

He found his family having breakfast quietly in the kitchen.

“Morning”, he said upon walking in. He received a chorus of good morning wishes in return.

“How is he?” Carole asked softly. “Finn filled us in on what happened last night.”

“I don’t know”, Kurt admitted. “He hasn’t been sick since I put him back to bed, so I guess that’s good. He’s still sleeping now.” 

“Poor thing”, Carole sighed, glancing towards the staircase. “You should try to get some food in him soon, he looks so weak.”

“He pretty much passed out on Kurt last night”, Finn said, nodding in agreement.

Kurt sighed, considering what he should give Blaine for breakfast. He was grateful that it was only Saturday. He would have a whole weekend to help Blaine adjust before he went back to school. Maybe he could even talk his dad into letting him stay home for a couple of days…

“We’ll have to get him a collar”, Burt said with a disapproving frown on his face.

Kurt sighed, but nodded. There wasn’t technically a law that obligated slave owners to do anything with their slaves, there wasn’t even a law to protect slaves from being murdered for fun, but it was a well-known fact that if you valued one of your slaves you better get them a collar. 

If a slave without owner identification is found in public without supervision they are either taken to a collection centre where they can be collected within a week, if the owner did want them back or they become property of the city, depending on the state one lives in. 

All of the Hummel-Hudson slaves wore collars to work, since the street outside the tire shop was considered a public area and Burt didn’t want any trouble with the authorities. 

“It’ll be a while before he’s in any condition to wander off on his own, so I don’t think we need to rush that.” Carole pointed out.

Kurt put down his fork. He was starting to feel sick again. He didn’t want to think about strapping anything around Blaine’s neck. Blaine wasn’t a dog. Although technically, Blaine was less than a dog, Blaine was his property, to do with as he pleased. The boy who was sleeping in his bed had cost him about as much as a new DVD. Kurt swallowed hard when he realized he owned socks that had cost him more than Blaine’s life had.

 

Kurt excused himself from the table and started preparing Blaine’s breakfast, hoping that Blaine would be able to handle a piece of toast and some tea. He could feel his dad watching him, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He placed the plate with the toast and a fresh cup of tea on a tray and headed upstairs. 

When he opened the door he could tell Blaine was awake, by the way his breathing was slightly faster and his muscles were slightly tenser than before, what he couldn’t figure out was why Blaine would pretend to be asleep.

“Good morning”, Kurt said quietly, Blaine’s chest stopped rising as though he was holding his breath, he slowly turned his head from its sleeping position to look at Kurt who was standing in the doorway, tray in hands.

“Good morning, Si-Kurt”, he whispered hoarsely, sitting up and lowering his eyes. Kurt could see he was holding on to his blanket rather tightly. “I- I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t remember falling asleep here.” He stuttered, fear evident in his eyes. “If I may, where are we?”

“This is my room. You kind of fell asleep on us last night and when Finn was done with your room it smelled so much like disinfectant that it almost made me sick. So I thought you’d probably be better off in my room.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and slowly placed the tray over Blaine’s lap.

Blaine seemed confused by the food in front of him.

“You should eat this slowly, small bites and small sips so you won’t get sick again, okay?”

“Thank you”, the boy said, reaching for the toast, not taking his eyes off Kurt for a second.

“I’ll go find you some clothes while you eat then.” Kurt announced, he didn’t want to watch Blaine eat. He opened his closet doors and went to work looking for simple clothes that were too tight for Kurt to wear anymore. Thankfully, he found quite a few that didn’t fit him anymore since his growth spurt a year ago. 

“What would you like me to do today?” Blaine asked quietly, nibbling on his breakfast.

Kurt abandoned his search in favor of looking at the boy in his bed. “Well, I’d like you to either have a bath or a shower, though a bath would be better for your legs I guess and we’ll have to clean your wounds and dress them. I think that’s it, you should probably rest as much as you can.”

Blaine didn’t answer, he was staring at the tea on his tray instead and Kurt wandered what Blaine thought he would want him to do. He went back to looking through his clothes. 

5 shirts, 2 pairs of pants and another pair of pajama should tide Blaine over until he was well enough to go out with Kurt to get his own clothes, Kurt figured. 

Blaine was sipping at his tea, holding the cup as though it was made of thin glass. Kurt was starting to feel awkward, he didn’t know what to say to Blaine. 

A knock on the door saved him from having to come up with something.

“Come in”, Kurt called.

“Ah… hey, just letting you know, Rachel’s coming over later today.” Finn said. “Morning, Blaine.” He added upon looking at the bed.

“Good morning, Master Finn”, Blaine answered, lowering his eyes to his mug. 

“Thanks Finn, are dad and Carole gonna be home or does that mean you want privacy?”

“Nah, they’ll be here, so we’ll just be in the living room. You can totally come and hang with us.” Finn said, obviously not satisfied. “Erm… Blaine too, of course.”

“Okay.” Kurt smiled. “We’ll see if we’re up for it.” 

 

After Blaine had finished his breakfast, Kurt led him to the bathroom. Blaine was much steadier on his feet this time around, so Kurt let his hands hover near Blaine’s waist and shoulders just in case, instead of having to hold him upright, like he had the previous day. 

He sat Blaine down on the closed toilet seat, before he adjusted the temperature of the water pouring into the tub.

“Please take off your shirt, so I can remove your bandages.” Blaine obliged, instantly fumbling with the buttons on his pajama top before letting it slip down his arms. He caught the fabric before it could drop to the floor and clutched it to his chest, closing his eyes and leaning forward slightly to give Kurt access to his back. 

Ever so carefully, Kurt started peeling off the bandages as gently as he could. He realized that this was the first time he had seen the broken skin on Blaine’s back up close. He could see old scar tissue on the parts of skin that hadn’t been freshly torn open, this wasn’t the first time Blaine had been whipped bloody. Kurt swore to himself that he would personally make sure that it was the last time though.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you”, he whispered when the last bandage was removed and the full extent of Blaine’s injuries was laid bare before him. 

Blaine flinched. “I deserved it”, he whispered.

Kurt squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath before asking, as calmly as he could. “What could you possibly have done to deserve this?” 

Blaine shuddered, clutching the shirt harder. “I soiled the market’s property. I was forbidden from… going, but I… I couldn’t hold it anymore and I… oh god, I’m so sorry.” He whimpered, covering his face with his hands and curling in on himself as if he was expecting a blow.

Kurt was kneeling on the floor in front of Blaine in an instant. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, you should have the right to do…erm… whatever you need to do whenever you have to”, Kurt sighed, he shouldn’t have pressured Blaine into telling him. He wasn’t helping the boy, he was only upsetting him. 

“I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He didn’t even know what the right thing to say was, but Blaine was looking at him, his face as unreadable as ever, but not as fearful as Kurt had dreaded it to be. 

“How about you get in the tub, it’ll make you feel better. I always feel better when I’m clean.” Kurt suggested standing up. Blaine nodded and allowed Kurt to pull him to his feet by one hand. 

He let go of the shirt he had been gripping and placed it next to the sink carefully, his pants followed and Kurt was looking anywhere but at Blaine until he heard the sound of someone sitting down in the water. 

Kurt handed him the washcloth and some shower gel. “Are you going to be alright for a moment?” He asked the boy in the tub. 

“Yes, Kurt”, Blaine answered, looking up at him uncertainly.

“I’ll be right back.” Kurt promised, heading out of the bathroom.

He collected the pile of neatly folded clothing he had found for Blaine and brought it to the guest room, stacking all the clothes apart from jogging pants and a long sleeved shirt into the cupboard. 

After getting Blaine’s meds from the kitchen he headed back to the bathroom, but stopped short in the doorway.

Blaine was resting his head against the edge of the tub, running his fingers through the water in random patterns, scooping a handful of water up and letting it drop through his fingers back into the tub with a smile on his face. He sighed happily.

Kurt couldn’t help but smile at the look on the boy’s face. He couldn’t believe that there were people out there who had willingly hurt him, raised a hand or whip or worse against him for no reason. 

Blaine noticed him standing in the doorway and immediately sat up straighter and started scrubbing his skin with the washcloth again.

“No need to rush”, Kurt said, placing the salves and pills on the counter next to the sink alongside with the fresh clothes “Take your time. Let me know if you need more hot water in there.”

“Really?” Blaine asked and for the first time Kurt could hear actual excitement in his voice.

“Of course, enjoy your bath.” Kurt said with a warm smile.

“Thank you.” Blaine sighed, sinking back into the tub.


	13. Chapter 13

Kurt didn’t let him soak for too long, since he didn’t want to irritate the wounds on Blaine’s back, but he did give him a few minutes to enjoy the bath and relax.

Blaine seemed absolutely fascinated by the fabric of his sweatpants and occupied himself by running his fingers over it while Kurt carefully disinfected and redressed the cuts on his back.  
He could see the old scar tissue on Blaine’s back much clearer now that the ointment from the previous day had been washed off.

It was as though there were multiple scar layers. Kurt could make out individual letters that must have been cut into Blaine’s skin with a blade, but they were obscured by other scars that looked as though they were probably caused by a whip as well.

6 owners, Kurt recalled the trader saying, he figured there were probably more. Traders often lied about the amount of previous owners if the slave was in a good enough shape to make a higher profit by re-selling them. He would ask Blaine about his owners eventually, but now was not the time.

“Should we try and brush your hair?” Kurt asked, when the wounds were all covered in bandages.

“Yes please, Kurt.” Blaine seemed a lot less nervous than he had been at breakfast. Kurt helped him into the sweatshirt he had picked for Blaine to wear that day before fetching a new comb from the supply closet in the hallway.

He knew he’d have to brush Blaine’s curls for him, since lifting his arms above his head was still painful for Blaine due to the wounds on his back.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you at all, okay?” He said before he started working the comb through Blaine’s untamed curls carefully. Blaine didn’t make a sound though.

The knots in his hair gave much easier than Kurt had expected and soon he was running the comb through untangled curls with ease. Kurt smiled to himself, those curls were going to look great soon, now that Blaine would have access to some proper hair care products, he made a mental note to get shampoo for his hair type soon.

“Now all that’s left is your beard, it looks like someone tried to cut it off with scissors or something.” Kurt said absentmindedly looking at the uneven hair growth on Blaine’s face.

“I’m sorry, Kurt.” Blaine said, looking at his feet.

It occurred to Kurt, that Blaine wasn’t so much calling him by his name as he was using his name as a title to address him by. He sighed.

“That’s not your fault. Would you like to shave though?” Kurt asked.

“Yes. Very much, Kurt.” Blaine nodded eagerly.

“Alright”, Kurt pulled a new razor from his pack, pulled his shaving cream from the cupboard and handed both to Blaine. “Do you know how to use this?” He asked.

Blaine was looking at the razor uncertainly. “I know how, Sir, but I haven’t had a brand new razor to myself since my hair started growing like this.” He admitted.

Kurt wasn’t sure what to make of this. “So… you need help with this?”

“No!” Blaine gasped instantly, clutching the razor to his chest. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, Sir, I meant I can handle it… I think.”

“Okay”, Kurt said, holding up his hands to show that he was going to let Blaine give it a try. “Go ahead.” He added, guiding Blaine to the mirror.

He should have seen it coming, he knew he should have. The instant Blaine took the razor to his jaw Kurt knew he was going to use too much pressure, but the cut was made before he could stop the other boy.

Blaine stared at himself in the mirror. A few drops of blood were starting to discolor the shaving cream he had applied to his face.

Kurt was next to him in a flash, gently taking the razor from his hand and pressing a piece of toilet paper to the wound. It was only a tiny cut, but the discouragement he saw on Blaine’s face told him that this had been a really bad idea.

“I’m sorry, Sir, for damaging your property.” Blaine whispered, Kurt felt him try to lower his head, but Kurt’s grip on his jaw from where he was pressing the toilet paper against his face was keeping his head in place.

“You’re not …”, he stopped himself from saying that Blaine wasn’t his property and settled for “it’s no big deal, it’s just a small cut, it already stopped bleeding, see?” He removed the paper from Blaine’s face so he could see the lack of new blood in the mirror.

“Would you like me to continue?” Blaine asked shakily, reaching for the razor on the sink.

“Show me your hands”, Kurt said, cringing at his own demanding tone. Blaine did as he was ordered to do and extended his hands for Kurt to inspect, the razor in his right hand. They were trembling.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, Kurt said.

He thought hard, he couldn’t let Blaine shave himself, not like this, he was much too nervous and his hands not nearly steady enough, but he wasn’t sure if he should offer to do it for him. Kurt knew he would never let anyone take a razor to his face, but then again, he wouldn't let anyone else do his laundry either.

“Kurt, if I…” Blaine swallowed hard “Could… would…I know, I have no right to, I’m sorry”

“What is it, Blaine?” Kurt asked, concerned.

“No, I’m sorry, I can’t ask for this.” Blaine lowered his head seemingly contemplating dropping to his knees. “You’ve done so much for me already.”

“You can ask for anything Blaine, what’s wrong?”

“I think I can’t… I need help with this.” Blaine whispered, holding out the razor.

Kurt looked at him in surprise. “Are you sure?” He asked.

Blaine’s face fell. “It was just a… an idea, Sir. I would never-“

“I can do it for you, if you want me to”, Kurt interrupted him in a calm voice, holding out his hand for the razor, before Blaine could start apologizing.

The other boy looked up at Kurt, searching his face for a moment. Kurt gave him an encouraging smile. Slowly and carefully Blaine placed the razor in Kurt’s steady hand.

“Thank you.” Kurt said, he carefully placed a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and turned him back towards he light coming from the lamp above the bathroom mirror. “Tilt your head like this for me, please.” He asked applying soft pressure to the side of Blaine’s jaw. Blaine turned his head as instructed giving Kurt access to the left side of his face, leaving his neck slightly exposed.

“Very good, thank you.” Kurt praised, Blaine was watching him in the mirror, his hands clenched at his sides. Kurt had never been so afraid to slip up in his life.

Carefully he took the razor to Blaine’s left cheek, dragging the blade downwards with light but firm pressure. He cleared the razor from hair and shaving cream by rinsing it off in the sink, before taking it to Blaine’s face again.

After a few strokes with the razor he could feel Blaine relax under his ministrations.

The slave closed his eyes and let Kurt position his head as he pleased. Slowly, bit by bit he cleared Blaine’s cheek from facial hair.

“Is this okay?” Kurt asked, as he rinsed out the razor.

Blaine nodded, “Yes, Kurt.”

“I’ll do your neck next, don’t be scared. Just tilt your head back a little… yes, just like this.” Kurt said. He carefully stretched the skin on the other boy’s neck as he continued to shave him.

With the way Blaine’s neck was exposed to him he could see the brand that marked him as a slave on the right side of his neck in all its detail.

The brand was a raised circle with slice cut out of it with wavy lines on the inside and what appeared to be an outline of an eagles head. Kurt frowned. He had seen the symbol before, but he couldn’t remember where or when.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=1428120)

It was customary for the first owner of a slave to brand their family’s crest or company’s logo on the skin of the slave’s neck, where it would always be visible. That way slaves were easily distinguished from free people even if their collars were removed.

Blaine’s brand was so familiar, it made Kurt wonder if he knew Blaine’s first owner personally.

After his neck was free of hair he moved on to his mouth area and chin, lost in thought. He could feel Blaine’s gaze on him now. When he was finished he made Blaine wash his face with warm water and carefully dabbed him dry with a towel.

“Thank you, Kurt.” Blaine said, admiring Kurt’s handiwork in the mirror.

“You’re not quite done yet, give me your hand.” Kurt held out his hand for Blaine’s. Blaine extended his hand without a moment’s hesitation and watched Kurt squeeze a dose of aftershave onto his fingers. “Rub this into your skin gently, okay?” Blaine did as he was told.

“Erm. There’s still this…” Kurt held up the ointment Dr. Holland had prescribed for Blaine’s chancre awkwardly “You still need to apply this to your… erm…” Blaine looked up and blushed upon recognizing the bottle. “Yes, of course, Sir!”

“I’ll just wait for you in the kitchen, come find me when you’re done.” Kurt didn’t know why he suddenly felt embarrassed talking about Blaine’s symptoms, but he did. Upon Blaine’s nod of understanding he left the bathroom in a hurry.


	14. Chapter 14

“Look at you, all cleaned up.” Kurt exclaimed, smiling warmly as Blaine joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later.

“I’m glad it pleases you,” Blaine answered, making Kurt’s smile falter for a moment.

He let his eyes wander over Blaine briefly before he turned back to the stove to stir the soup he was warming up. Blaine was drowning in his clothes. Kurt couldn’t help but look down at his own body to compare. The shirt the slave was wearing had been somewhat tight on Kurt, which was one of the reasons why he had given it to Blaine in the first place, but it still hung loosely off Blaine’s shoulders, leaving parts of his prominent collarbones exposed. The same was true of the sweatpants; if it weren’t for the adjustable string, nothing would keep those pants on Blaine’s hips.

He vaguely remembered one of the slaves from the garage being this thin, years ago, when his father had first bought him. Kurt himself had been a little kid and he couldn’t remember which one of the men it had been, but he remembered the effect skinny arms and sharp cheekbones had had on him back then. The man had reminded him of a skeleton and caused him some nightmares. His father hadn’t taken him to the garage for a while back then, not until the man had become healthier and less terrifying to a child’s imagination.

“I’m warming up some soup. Do you think you’re up for another snack or would you rather wait a little longer?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at Blaine who was still standing in the middle of the room awkwardly. “Oh, please, sit down, have a seat, you shouldn’t overexert yourself with those knees.”

Blaine dropped into a sitting position on the floor before Kurt even noticed that he hadn’t told Blaine where to sit; it hadn’t even occurred to him that he should have specified, even though he knew a lot of people didn’t permit their slaves to use the furniture.

“I’d rather you sit on a chair, if you don’t mind, okay?” Kurt said calmly, walking over to where Blaine had sat down, extending his hand to help the other boy off the floor. Blaine nodded before scrambling to his feet without Kurt’s help.

“You can always sit on the furniture, doesn’t matter if I’m there to tell you to or not, you can sit wherever you like, alright?” Blaine nodded once more and sat down on the chair nearest to Kurt, looking up at him expectantly.

“So, would you like some soup?” Kurt repeated his previous question.

“Yes, Kurt.” Blaine burst out eagerly before adding “Please, Kurt.”

A few minutes later Kurt placed a bowl of soup and a slice of toast in front of Blaine. Although Kurt hadn’t really had breakfast, he wasn’t feeling hungry. He just sat with Blaine while the other boy ate.

He was at a loss at what to say. More than anything he wanted to put Blaine at ease, but nothing he could say could possibly make Blaine believe that he was safe and had nothing to be scared of anymore.

Blaine’s eyes were starting to droop halfway through his soup, his movements becoming sluggish. Kurt smiled in sympathy at the almost adorable display of sleepiness battling the instinct to finish eating. He watched Blaine’s inner struggle a little longer until he was fairly sure Blaine was about to fall asleep at the table.

“You should get some rest, you must be tired” Kurt suggested. Blaine looked at the kitchen clock in disbelief. It read 11:20.

“I can sleep?” He asked tentatively.

“You can, if you want to.” Kurt confirmed. At Blaine’s rueful look at the remaining food on his plate he added “You don’t have to eat it up now, I promise there’ll be food for you later.”

Blaine thanked him in a whisper and allowed Kurt to guide him to the guest room by his elbow.

“I put some clothes in the dresser for you. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll leave the door open a crack, but you can close it if you want to.”

“Thank you, Kurt” Blaine sat down on the bed, looking at Kurt questioningly.

At Kurt’s nod of approval he lay down on his side, pulling the blanket up to his neck.

When Kurt glanced into Blaine’s room half an hour later, he found the other boy curled in on himself, sound asleep under the blanket, with only his head and hands poking out. Kurt could see his wrists were crossed, resting on the pillow in front of Blaine’s face as though they were bound together by an invisible rope.

 

He decided to let the other boy catch as much sleep as he could and moved on to the living room where his father and Finn had made themselves comfortable in front of the television.

“Hey buddy”, his dad smiled at him, patting the spot on the couch to his right “how’s Blaine doing?”

Kurt dropped into the indicated spot next to his father and sighed “Tired, mostly, I think he’s doing better though, he’s much steadier on his feet today. He’s sleeping now.”

“Probably for the best, he needs all the rest he can get by the look of him.”

Kurt felt tired; his night in the chair had given him a stiff neck. “What are we watching?” He asked conversationally while suppressing a yawn.

“The longest commercial break in the history of ever”, Finn snorted. Burt nodded in agreement, scooting to a more comfortable position on the couch.

Kurt watched in amusement as his dad looked over the back of the couch, checking to see if Carole was around before putting his sock-clad feet on the living room table with a sheepish grin. Seconds later Finn did the same.

“Feet off the table!” Carole called from the kitchen, making both men jump. Kurt snorted.

“How does she do that?” Finn asked wide-eyed, moving his feet back off the table with a pout. Burt looked just as puzzled, mumbling “Sorry” over his shoulders before obeying his wife’s order.

All three of them whipped their heads around when loud patriotic music started blasting from the TV.

"Are you sick of the annual disturbance that comes with the most wonderful time of the year? The ear-shattering noise disturbance that arrives at your house every Christmas? So am I." A dramatic male voice said, patriotic music making his words sound far more impressive than they were.

"Oh come on, not that clown again." Burt grunted, turning down the volume.

"Caroling is a public disturbance" The voice continued

"Isn't that the guy who proposed the bill about making pizza a vegetable?" Kurt asked, frowning.

"Yeah, he's Rick "The stick"'s dad. He owns this huge chain of pizza places", Finn said.

"Reggie "The sauce" Salazar will personally ensure that you will never be bothered by stray groups of carollers again."

"Seems like he found his next worthy cause", Kurt snorted as a huge red X appeared over a picture of carollers dressed in Victorian costumes.

"I am Reggie Salazar and I approve this message!" A different male voice said proudly. A campaign logo started appearing and the first male voice read the words of it out loud. "Reggie "The Sauce" Salazar. Take a slice of the American dream."

 

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=5yrh1u)

 

Kurt's heart sank when he recognized the logo. Blaine’s first master had been the biggest homophobe and pro-slavery activist in the Senate, Senator Salazar.

 

Author's Notes:  
In this alternate universe Burt Hummel didn’t run for congress, because that would have put his family and his business in the spotlight of the media and the way the Hummel family treats slaves would not have found approval with the general public. Reggie “the sauce” Salazar won the election and made it into congress without much resistance.  
The original logo is of the chamber of commerce. Reggie "the sauce" put a crust on it and took a slice out to make it look like a pizza and used it as a campaign logo.  
I hope that and the "pizza is a vegetable" joke are not offensive, if they are I am sorry, I thought it was funny at the time. *hidesindarkcorner*


	15. Chapter 15

Kurt was startled awake by the repeated ringing of the doorbell. Groggily he sat up and looked around. He was still on the living room sofa, but he was alone now. A blanket had been placed over him and the television had been turned off. Kurt figured he must have fallen asleep.

The house was silent until the doorbell rang once more. 

“Okay, okay! I’m coming!” He mumbled, pushing the blanket off himself and getting to his feet. The doorbell rang again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He grumbled, speeding up his steps, cursing under his breath.

When he rounded the corner he collided with a warm body. 

Instinctively he reached out and caught Blaine by the arms, effectively keeping him from tumbling to the ground. “I’m sorry, Sir!” Blaine gasped, regaining his balance. “I was just going to answer the door.”

“No worries! Did I hurt you?” Kurt asked looking Blaine over. The boy’s hair was dishevelled from his own nap he still looked somewhat sleepy but was otherwise alright. “No, Kurt.” He answered. 

The doorbell rang once more, reminding Kurt of his initial task. “Right.” He mumbled, pulling the front door open.

“You know Rachel, there’s a line between insistent ringing and leaning on the doorbell.” He said with more than a hint of annoyance in his tone. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“And hello to you too, Kurt,” she smiled nervously “didn’t Finn tell you I was coming over?” She glanced over Kurt’s shoulder as if she expected Finn to be hiding behind him. 

“Oh, yeah, right, come in.” Kurt said, opening the door wide for her. He had completely forgotten that Finn had given him a heads-up earlier. “FINN!” He hollered up the stairs, “Rachel’s here!”

“Finn is still at football practice.” Rachel informed him, handing her coat to the blonde girl who had caught up and entered the house behind her.

“Oh, hey Quinn, I didn’t see you there.” Kurt said. The blonde frowned at him and said “Good afternoon, Mister Hummel.” She hung up Rachel’s coat in a way Kurt was sure would cause it to wrinkle before turning back to her owner, but Rachel was occupied with someone else. 

“And this must be Blaine.” She smiled brightly, while advancing on Blaine, her hand held out as though she was going to pet his hair. Blaine was shrinking in on himself a little, but didn’t move away.

Kurt swiftly caught her hand with his own before she reached him and spun her towards himself a little “Yes, that’s Blaine. Now what do you mean Finn’s still at football practice? What are you doing here, if he’s not around?”

“Well, if you must know, I was hoping I could surprise him with my unexpected presence when he comes back. Finn thinks I’ll be here in two hours, but I was bored because my dads are playing with my karaoke machine, so I decided to drop in early.” She sounded so chipper and enthusiastic it almost hurt Kurt’s sleepy eyes to look at her.

“Okay, whatever, wait in the living room if you want.” He was about to direct Blaine up the stairs with him when Rachel caught his arm.

“Kurt.” She whined, her eyes big. “Come on, we haven’t talked since… well, it’s been forever. We should catch up! Please, it’ll be nice, we can talk on the couch and Quinn can make us some tea and…”

“No! Rachel, you’re doing it again!” Kurt snapped, pulling free from her grip. “That’s not something I can deal with. This is a deal breaker for me Rachel. I understand that you have different views than I do and I’m glad you and Finn found a way to work around it, but you can’t come here and order Quinn into our kitchen. If I want tea, I’ll make it myself!”

“No offence, Quinn, your tea is excellent,” he added when he saw Quinn’s face darken.

“I’m sorry Kurt, I didn’t mean to …I just”, Rachel’s eyes were getting watery “Just talk to me, please! I miss my best gay!” 

Kurt took a deep breath and counted to ten. Rachel had been his friend for a long time. However, they had a fall-out a few weeks prior due to their vastly different views on slave ownership; he had refused to hang out with his best friend ever since. He looked at Quinn who was observing the scene in front of her with curious, somewhat calculating eyes. 

Rachel had gotten Quinn on her 14th birthday. Quinn was an entertainment slave, whom Rachel’s dads had thought would be a good companion, friend, and maid for Rachel. Which Rachel of course took to mean Quinn was there to do her bidding and cater to her every whim. 

Kurt had always had a hunch that Quinn didn’t exactly appreciate how Rachel treated her. He was actually quite convinced at times that Quinn didn’t even like her owner or anyone else for that matter. What he hadn’t known, however, was that once a month Rachel’s fathers took their slaves, including Quinn, to the professional punisher. It was a lazy way for rich people to deal with their slaves misbehaviours, where the owners handed in a list of offences explaining how they wanted them punished and someone else did the punishing for them. He had been livid. 

In retrospect he couldn’t recall why, but he had assumed the Berrys were treating their slaves much better than most people did. Then again, people didn’t actually discuss slave punishments openly, since people liked to impress others with their perfectly behaved slaves.

His silence prompted Rachel to try to convince him harder. “I haven’t-…. we haven’t taken them there anymore since… I told my dads I didn’t want it anymore.” She tried. “Tell him, Quinn.”

“I haven’t seen the corrector in two months, Mister Hummel.” Quinn said in a neutral tone.

Kurt sighed, taking a long look at Rachel, before admitting “I do miss you.”

Rachel squealed in excitement, clapping her hands gleefully. “I miss you too! Can I please hug you now?” Kurt rolled his eyes; he wasn’t happy by far, but he really did miss her, so he nodded and found himself with an armful of Rachel Berry. 

Over Rachel’s shoulder he saw Blaine watching the scene with thoughtful big eyes. Kurt gave him a smile when he looked up.

“Alright, okay that’s enough,” he said, extracting himself from her a minute later. “How about coffee instead of tea though? I only just got up from a nap, I’m sure we have soy milk.” Rachel nodded and followed him to the kitchen. Kurt stopped at the door “If you want to, you can go and get some more sleep Blaine.” He said facing the boy who was trailing behind Quinn. 

“Please, Mister Hummel, may I make your coffee for you?” Quinn interrupted before Blaine could answer. 

“It’s alright, Quinn, I can make my own coffee. Would you like something to drink as well?” Kurt asked. “I’m afraid it’s still tea for you, Blaine.” 

“Thank you, Kurt.” Blaine said, stepping into the kitchen with them.

Quinn was already at the cupboard pulling out cups before Kurt had even gotten halfway through the kitchen. He sighed; Quinn was nothing if not persistent. 

“I know how you like your coffee, Mister Hummel, you can just go to the living room while I fix everything for you.” She insisted, turning on the coffee maker and pulling the milk from the fridge at a speed that made Kurt suspect that Finn let her fix stuff for him in the kitchen a lot more often than he let Kurt believe. He sighed “If you insist.”

“I can help, Kurt!” Blaine blurted out. Kurt turned to look at him. The look on Blaine’s face was eager and hopeful. “You really don’t have to, Blaine.” He said with emphasis.

“Please, Kurt, may I help?” Blaine asked, his face sinking. Kurt couldn’t tell him no. He may not want Blaine or Quinn to be slaves in this household, but with his black eye and falling expression Blaine looked like a kicked puppy and he couldn’t be the one to put that look on his face. 

“Alright, sure. We’ll be in the living room then.” He figured it may be good for Blaine to have contact with another slave; he had seemed to take to Brittany back on the car ride home. Kurt was startled when he realized that he had only brought Blaine home a day ago.

“He sure is eager to work.” Rachel said as she sat down on the couch. 

“I’d rather he be resting in bed,” Kurt admitted, folding up the blanket he had slept under only minutes ago before joining her on the couch. 

“Oh yes, Finn did say he was damaged,” Rachel pulled a face when she realized how that had sounded, “hurt, I mean, he’s hurt.”

Kurt decided to let this one slip and pulled a pillow into his lap to get comfortable. “He is.” Kurt sighed. He could hear Quinn and Blaine whispering in the kitchen. 

“Well, he’ll be fine in no time.” Rachel said smiling. “With you as a nurse he couldn’t not get better if he tried.”

“I sure hope so” Kurt snorted. “So, what’s new? What did I miss?”

They talked for a few minutes; and Kurt had almost forgotten how fast Rachel could talk when she was excited. 

“Here’s your coffee, Rachel”, Quinn announced, smiling sweetly as she put a cup down on the couch table in front of Rachel. Kurt looked over his shoulder to see Blaine emerging from the kitchen with a cup as well. He seemed uncertain though; his hands were shaking as he cast an unhappy glance at Quinn and stopped short a few steps away from the couch.

“Mister Hummel is waiting.” Quinn hissed, causing Kurt to look at her in surprise. 

The sound of breaking china made his head snap back to Blaine who was staring at the floor where the cup lay broken in a mess of spilled coffee with wide eyes. 

Kurt knew what was going to happen but his cry of “No, don’t!” came too late.

Blaine had dropped to his knees on the floor and was scooping up the shards with his bare hands before Kurt’s command made him freeze in his tracks, both hands buried in the sharp edged mess.

Kurt scrambled to his feet and pulled Blaine upright and out of the shards with an arm around his waist. Blaine froze in his grip, but let himself be dragged to the kitchen sink.

“Did you cut yourself?” Kurt asked frantically, looking at Blaine’s arms and knees while he made sure the pouring water was at an acceptable temperature. Blaine yelped when Kurt pulled his hands under the flow of the water.

“What? Is it hot?” He pulled Blaine’s hands back and felt the water again, it was lukewarm. “What’s wrong?” 

Blaine was breathing rapidly. “I’m sorry, Master, I’m so sorry. Please punish me for my failure, I’m so sorry.”

Kurt shook his head “No, no one is punishing you. You dropped something, it happens.” Blaine didn’t seem to hear him though; he was just staring at the water that was still flowing into the sink. 

“You’re okay, Blaine, nothing bad is gonna happen.” Kurt said, much lower and calmer than before. “Here, I’ll help you clean up, okay? I just need to see if you hurt yourself. You shouldn’t have tried to clean it up with your bare hands.”

“Is he okay?” Rachel’s voice came from the direction of the door, but Kurt didn’t bother to look at her.

“Maybe you should leave now, Rachel.” He said, in the tone that he thought left no room for discussion. 

Kurt gently grasped Blaine’s hands and guided them under the faucet, carefully washing off the little pieces of the cup that stuck to his skin, but hadn’t cut him yet. Blaine’s right forearm hadn’t been quite so lucky. When Kurt moved up further to rinse off Blaine’s wrists he noticed the thin red track that discoloured the coffee drops that clung to where Blaine had tried to soak it up with his arms. 

When he turned Blaine’s forearm he found two small cuts there. He sighed in relief.

“Well, that could have been worse.” He finished rinsing Blaine’s hands and forearms; Blaine was letting Kurt move him like a rag doll and otherwise holding completely still. He heard the front door slam shut after Rachel and Quinn.

“There we go, all clean.” He pulled up a chair. “Here, sit.” Blaine sat while Kurt rushed to the cupboard for a fresh towel and a band aid pack. Carefully he petted Blaine dry, mindful not to scratch over the cuts. 

“I’m sorry.” Blaine repeated weakly. 

“It’s okay, no big deal, really.” Kurt assured him, covering the cuts, which had already stopped bleeding, with smiley faced band aids. “There we go, good as new. Wait here for a second okay?”

Kurt headed back into the living room, picking up the broom and shovel on the way. The mess was cleaned up and the shards were discarded in no time. 

When he arrived back in the kitchen, however, everything was not peachy. Blaine was as pale as a sheet and curled into himself as best as he could manage while sitting on the chair Kurt had sat him on. 

“Hey,” Kurt whispered softly, as he crouched down in front of Blaine’s chair to catch the boy’s gaze. “It’s all cleaned up, no harm done. Honestly, Blaine you can relax, you won’t be punished. I promise.”

“I did it on purpose!” Blaine burst out, tears overflowing from his eyes. “I dropped the cup, it wasn’t an accident, Mast-, Sir. Kurt! Oh god, please, I’m sorry.” He sobbed. 

“Shh, shh,” Kurt pulled one of Blaine’s hands away from where Blaine had been gripping his own shirt, trying to sooth the boy by running his fingers over the back of his hand. “What do you mean it wasn’t an accident?” He asked, confused.

Blaine’s breath was coming so rapidly that Kurt was worried the boy was going to pass out on him. “I didn’t want-.. she - no. … Sir, I can’t. I didn’t mean to break- …I didn’t want you to- …” with a shaky breathy he settled on “I can’t say.” 

“What do you mean? What can’t you say?” Kurt was really worried by now, holding Blaine’s hand in his, with his thumbs stroking it still. 

Blaine shook his head, looking around the room frantically as if he was looking for a way out. 

“Blaine!” Kurt called, hoping to pull the boy out of his panicked haze. “I promise, whatever the reason, you won’t be punished for dropping that damn cup, but please, tell me what happened!” He regretted making it sound like so much of an order, but the other boy was scaring him. 

“I didn’t want you to drink it. She-“ Blaine’s eyes went wide and he clapped his free hand over his mouth in horror. 

“She?” Kurt asked in confusion. “Rachel?” But then it dawned on him. “Quinn.” He said, at the look on Blaine’s face he knew he was right. He looked at the slave for a moment, contemplating everything he had said. Blaine had dropped the cup on purpose. Because of something Quinn did. And he didn’t want Kurt to… what? Drink it? Oh.

“What did she do with the coffee?” Kurt asked and Blaine looked as though he was going to be sick. 

“Tell me, Blaine!” Kurt insisted, standing back up to his full height.

“She spit in it.” Blaine whispered, ducking his head into his hands as though he was expecting a blow.

Kurt sighed in relief. Of all the horrible ideas that had come to his mind in the past few seconds this seemed remarkably harmless, even though it was quite disgusting. It took him a moment to register Blaine’s defensive position.

“Blaine”, he got to his knees in front of Blaine’s chair, gently prying Blaine’s hands off his face, holding them gently in his own as he looked up into Blaine’s confused face.

“You were looking out for me.” Kurt gave Blaine his most encouraging smile. “You didn’t want me to drink coffee someone had spit in?”

Blaine nodded. 

“You rather dropped it, even though you thought I was going to punish you?” Another, much more tentative nod. 

“Oh Blaine.” Kurt whispered, smiling warmly at the other boy.


	16. Chapter 16

“Please don’t punish Quinn either.” Blaine whispered, his eyes fixed on the floor again. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first-“

“Blaine, no one’s going to be hurt or punished, okay?” Kurt said, smiling reassuringly when Blaine looked at him cautiously.

“Thank you, Kurt.”

“Nothing to thank me for“, Kurt gave Blaine’s hand a light squeeze in an attempt to reassure him. Blaine’s hand was cold. “Everything’s alright.” He assured Blaine once more. 

“Let’s get you warmed up, your hands feel freezing cold.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt, they’re always cold.” Blaine whispered.

“That’s alright. We’ll just have to keep you warm then. How about we watch a movie and relax a bit?”

“If it pleases you, Kurt.” Kurt closed his eyes, hoping his frustration at the submissive answer didn’t show on his face. 

“No, we don’t have to.” He said as calmly as he could manage. “Would you rather have some more soup, or take a nap?” Blaine’s hopeful expression at the mention of sleep gave his preference away, even though he answered with “Whatever you think is best, Kurt.” 

Kurt sighed heavily, regretting it instantly when Blaine flinched a little. 

“Let’s get you back to bed then, you look like you’re about to fall over.” It was true, Blaine was pale and the earlier trembling hadn’t quite subsided yet; he looked incredibly tense again. Still, Blaine allowed Kurt to pull him to his feet and followed him down the corridor to the guest bedroom.

Kurt was pulling back the blanket for Blaine to get back to bed when he heard the door click shut behind him. 

 

He spun around and found Blaine awkwardly standing by the door. From the look on his face, Kurt could tell that he was thinking hard.

“I want to thank you, Kurt, for letting me rest a whole day,” Blaine was looking at him intently, as if trying to guess whether what he was saying pleased Kurt or if he was speaking out of turn. “And for feeding me, clothing and bathing me.” Blaine paused for a moment, assessing Kurt’s reaction.

Kurt didn’t speak. He could tell Blaine wasn’t done. The silence in the room felt awkward and unsettling. 

“I know I’m sick and not appealing with the way I look now, but I can serve you, Kurt. I swear I can be useful and give you pleasure.” Blaine was speaking frantically now, his fingers locked in a pleading gesture in front of him. He stumbled across the room towards Kurt.

“Blaine, no, I-“

“I know I’m infectious, but if you would please allow me to put a condom on you, I’ll be careful, I promise I can make you feel good! I know the medication is worth more than I am, but I will work for it! I will make it up to you, I’ll be so good! I’m a good slave, Kurt, I can do whatever you-“

“Blaine, Blaine, no stop!” Blaine fell silent, dread clear in his eyes. “Blaine, that’s not why you’re here, I don’t want you to have … relations with me or repay me any other way.”

“Kurt, please, Kurt, I know most owners don’t like condoms, but please let me earn my keep.”

“This is not about…” Kurt paused. He reached out to the scared boy in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “You don’t have to earn your keep or your medication. I brought you here because you needed help and I want to help you. There’s nothing I want in return and no medication could ever be worth more than you are, Blaine.” 

He gently pulled Blaine towards the bed and set him down on the edge. 

“Am I to service Master Finn then?” Blaine asked, looking up at Kurt with a confused expression on his face.

“No!” Kurt gasped, startled by the suggestion. “No, you’re not supposed to … service anyone.” 

Blaine’s lower lip was quivering while his eyes were growing wetter by the second. “I don’t understand.” He said, looking past Kurt into empty space. 

Kurt felt lost, he didn’t know what to say and he didn’t understand what Blaine needed to hear to feel save and there was no one there to help him out. Hoping that he wasn’t going to frighten the boy any more than he already was, Kurt sat down on the bed next to Blaine. 

“I know this is new and scary”, he began “but you don’t have to be afraid. We… that is my dad, Carole, Finn and I, we don’t expect anything from you. I didn’t buy you for a purpose. We’re probably gonna ask you to help out around the house once you’re feeling better, but nothing more than a few chores. But for now, all I want you to do is focus on getting better, okay? Just sleep whenever you like and eat when you can, because we really need to get you to a healthier weight. We’ll keep taking care of your back and we’ll go see Dr. Holland again soon to make sure you’re getting better.” Blaine was nodding along with everything he said, as if he was trying to absorb Kurt’s every word. “Blaine?” He asked softly.

“Yes, Kurt?” 

Kurt bit his lower lip. “Why don’t you lie down and sleep for a while? I know today was stressful.”

“Yes, Kurt.” Blaine lay down on his side on the mattress as quickly as he could while still minding his knees and back. Kurt pulled the blanket over his body and tucked it in around his neck in a motion that was starting to feel familiar.

He stopped himself from running his hand over Blaine’s arm like he would if it were Finn or Rachel he was tucking in, because he didn’t want to send the wrong message. He could see the tension in Blaine’s posture as the boy waited for Kurt’s next move or request. 

“Sleep well, Blaine.” He said softly “Call for me if you need anything at all, or come get me, alright?”

“Yes, Kurt.” 

Only when he had left the room did he allow his face to fall. Kurt sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to get used to hearing his name as Blaine’s new synonym for ‘Master’ for long.


	17. Chapter 17

Kurt woke up disoriented on the couch the next morning. He was covered by the same blanket that had kept him warm during his afternoon nap the past day and to his displeasure he was still wearing the same clothes he had worn all of yesterday. Then again, he figured it would have been much more unsettling if someone had dressed him in pajamas instead, so he silently appreciated his family’s acceptance of personal boundaries. 

“Oh good, you’re up.” Kurt sat up to see his dad leaning in the living room door, nursing a cup of coffee. 

“Is Blaine-“

“Still asleep in his room.” His father assured him before he could worry. He leaned back against the couch with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. 

“There’s coffee in the kitchen, if you want any.” Burt said, taking a seat in the armchair. 

Kurt shook his head. “Where did you disappear to yesterday?” 

“Carole and I decided to drop in on the guys at the garage. They were really happy when Carole offered to make dinner. Apparently, Coop was the only one with any cooking skills whatsoever. I guess, I’m gonna have to send one of them to the education centre for cooking lessons.” Burt chuckled.

Kurt smiled, but he could tell his dad hadn’t just randomly decided to drop in by the auto shop on a Saturday night. 

“You’re staying away on purpose.” Kurt stated, puzzled at his realization. Burt sighed, nodding. “Why?” Kurt asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He sat up straight facing his dad. “I thought you weren’t mad that I bought Blaine!”

“No, buddy, of course I’m not mad! You’re doing a great job taking care of him too, kid. But if I learned anything about helping new slaves settle in, it’s that the more people they have to answer to, the harder it is for them to focus on getting adjusted. Most of them are used to having one master and until Blaine understands that he’s not a slave to us, that master is going to be you.” Burt explained calmly. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, dad.” Kurt admitted miserably. “I think most of the time I just scare him. I have no idea what to say to him at all-.”

“Kurt, when your mom and I brought Jim home, we had no idea what the hell we were doing. He wasn’t as hurt or as scared as Blaine, but he wasn’t used to decent people either.” Kurt felt a pang of sympathy in the pit of his stomach. 

Jim, now in his late thirties, had been the first Hummel slave to be set free. The dark skinned man had been with the family for almost 13 years now; he was a strong, intimidating guy at first glance, but Kurt knew the man was a teddy bear inside. He had a lot of fond memories of Jim babysitting him at the auto shop when his dad had to take him to work with him, because he couldn’t afford a babysitter for Kurt after his mother passed away. 

“What did you do?” Kurt asked.

“It was tough at first,” Burt said. “He thought we were tricking him into a punishment when we offered him the same food we were having and he wouldn’t sit at the table with us or do anything that would put him into an equal position.” 

Burt removed his cap and rubbed his head thoughtfully. “He’d just sit in a corner during meals and wait for the leftovers. We didn’t know how to make him comfortable.” A fond smile appeared on Burt’s face when he looked up and met Kurt’s eyes. “But you did.”

“What?”

“I’ll never forget it”, Burt chuckled. “You were coloring at the living room table and your mom made you a PBJ sandwich as a snack. We were all sitting in the living room, I don’t remember what we were doing, but Jim was sitting in his usual corner, away from the rest of us. You just got up with your plate and you sat down right on Jim’s lap and held up a half of your sandwich right in front of his mouth.” Burt laughed at the memory. “I still remember his face; he was so confused, but you didn’t move until he’d taken a bite.”

Kurt shook his head, laughing incredulously.

“It got a lot easier after that.” Burt’s face grew serious again. “What I’m trying to say is: you instinctively knew what to do when you were three years old. I doubt that you could mess up now, even if you tried.”

At his father’s words, Kurt found that he was breathing a little easier. “You really think so?”

“I believe in you, kid! Always have and always will.” Burt assured him and got up from the chair. He was halfway to the kitchen before he remembered. “Oh right, almost forgot. Dr. Holland called yesterday evening. Do you think you can take Blaine to her at 9 pm?”

“9 pm? Isn’t that kind of late for a doctor’s visit?” Kurt asked.

“Well, she can’t exactly put slaves down as official patients during business hours,” Burt explained. 

“Oh, okay, yes, of course. I’ll take him. Did she say anything about the test results?” He asked hopefully.

“No, buddy, sorry.” Burt said, before retreating into the kitchen.

“Thanks, Dad.” Kurt called after him, before deciding that maybe coffee wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Over breakfast Burt reminded him that Carole was working the morning shift and Finn was at football practice again. Between the two of them they decided to let Blaine sleep rather than to wake him for breakfast. 

“He’s so tired.” Kurt mumbled between small bites of toast. 

“Makes sense, I don’t know how long he was with that market, but I know they sure as hell don’t let them sleep much. And he’s so little, too…” Burt trailed off with a sad look on his face. “He’ll be better soon. You’ll see, and then we can figure out everything else with him. This is always the hardest part: When you get a new slave, the time it takes for them to settle in and figure out that nothing bad is gonna happen to them. Even when they’re strong and healthy to begin with, it takes time to understand that they’re actual people here. And with this kid, it’ll probably take a lot longer.”

Kurt nodded. “Can I stay home with him tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not.” Burt snorted, seemingly amused by Kurt’s suggestion. 

“What? Why not?” Kurt said, probably a bit too loudly. He put down his toast in favour of leaning back and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Burt’s expression turned serious.

“How do you think that’s gonna look when people find out about Blaine? You think people aren’t gonna talk about how you bought a sex toy and the next week you stayed home from school cos you were too busy with it?”

Kurt paled. “Why would people know about Blaine?”

“Oh come on, kid, Santana was at the market with you and between Rachel and Mercedes being in and out of the house like they live here, it’s only a matter of time. It’s not like Finn’s a brilliant secret keeper either. But nevermind the gossip, what about school? I’m not letting you compromise your GPA to play nurse.”

“I can’t just leave him here alone!” Kurt protested.

“Sooner or later you’ll have to, if you stay home on Monday, you’re gonna want to stay home on Tuesday too; he’s not gonna get better in half a week, so there’s no use for this nonsense in the first place.” Burt insisted, at the look on Kurt’s face his expression softened and he added “He’ll be fine on his own for half a day, and he’ll probably be asleep anyway.”

“Fine.” Kurt gave in. He’d have to come up with some way to make sure Blaine was okay, even if he couldn’t be there. 

“That’s my boy.” Burt said approvingly, putting his now empty plate into the sink. “I’m gonna go get ready and then I’m gonna go to the shop. I’m kinda falling behind on the paperwork. Don’t forget, 9 pm!”

“Got it.” Kurt assured him and turned his attention back to the last bites of his toast as his father left the room.

When he knocked on Blaine’s door an hour later, freshly showered, already dressed for the day and with a plate of fresh toast and a cup of tea in his hands, there was no answer. He carefully pushed the door handle down with his right elbow and let the door swing open quietly. He smiled when he saw Blaine’s sleeping form on the bed. The boy was sleeping on his side, his front turned towards the door with a peaceful expression on his face. The blanket covered him to his ribs. 

Kurt put the plate and cup down on the empty nightstand and sat down on the edge of Blaine’s bed. 

The bruise around Blaine’s eye had turned a dark purple color, while the edges were turning yellow. Blaine’s lips were parted and Kurt could see that the cut on his lower lip had started to heal. Blaine’s curls were strewn wildly across the pillow and Kurt had to restrain himself from brushing a wayward curl out of his face. 

His eyes fell on Blaine’s wrists which were crossed on the pillow next to his face again. The other night, he hadn’t been close enough to see, but now he could clearly make out a matching set of scars on both of Blaine’s wrists. There was no doubt in his mind that Blaine was used to sleeping with bound wrists. With wrists bound tightly enough that constant rope burn had made the tissue underneath the ropes scar. He wondered if he’d find similar scars on Blaine’s ankles too. Kurt felt a sinking feeling in his chest when he considered that being tied up was hardly the worst thing that happened to Blaine in the past.

He had half a mind to let Blaine sleep some more, but he had to get some more food into the boy; he could always let him go back to sleep after.

Kurt’s hand hovered over Blaine’s shoulder for a second, but he pulled it back again. 

“Blaine?” He whispered instead. “Blaine, it’s time to wake up. Breakfast is ready.”

Blaine frowned in his sleep and buried his nose in the pillow, rubbing his face against the soft fabric for a second. A warm feeling settled in the pit of Kurt’s stomach when Blaine emitted a content sigh. 

“Blaine.” He said, a little louder this time, but with a gentle tone nonetheless. 

The boy stiffened as he startled awake, looking disoriented for a moment. 

“Morning”, Kurt said, smiling softly “there’s breakfast for you on the nightstand. I hope you like herbal tea.” Blaine’s eyes focused on Kurt and the confusion was replaced with a flash of delight. 

“Sir! I mean- good morning, Kurt.” He said, quickly correcting his mistake.

“Did you sleep well?” Kurt asked as Blaine pushed himself into a sitting position against the headboard, dragging the duvet up to cover himself to the chest. Kurt handed him the cup of tea, careful not to spill any of it on the bed.

“I did, thank you, Kurt.” Blaine took the cup from Kurt and gave the liquid an experimental sip, eyes widening at the taste. 

“Do you like it? I can make something else if you don’t.”

“No, it’s really good, thank you.” Blaine’s gaze landed on the digital clock on the shelf and he startled. “I’m sorry for sleeping so long, Kurt, I should have been up hours ago!”

“No, no, Blaine, don’t worry! Remember what we talked about yesterday, about sleep being good? I’m glad you got to sleep in, it’s good for you.” Blaine relaxed and took another sip of tea.

“We’re going to see the doctor at 9 pm tonight.” Kurt informed him, offering Blaine the plate of toast. Blaine took it and placed the plate in his lap. 

“You are- erm… are you coming with me?” Blaine asked hopefully. 

“Of course.” Kurt promised. “I’ll be driving you there anyway, if you want I can come in with you, but that’s entirely up to you.” 

“Thank you, Kurt.” Blaine whispered, clutching the half full mug against his chest. 

The remainder of the day passed, much like the day before had. 

Kurt drew Blaine a bath and helped him remove his bandages and reapplied new ones after Blaine had some time to soak in the hot water. 

He made a mental note to make Blaine start taking showers soon, since he seemed capable of holding himself upright for more than a few minutes by now, but Blaine seemed so happy submerged in warm water that Kurt decided their water bill could handle a couple more baths.

Blaine seemed more at ease and Kurt wasn’t sure if it was due to their talk the previous night or if it was just a result of a peaceful night of rest in a comfortable bed.

After coaxing two bowls of vegetable soup into him, Kurt sent Blaine back to bed for a nap until it was time to get ready to see the doctor, which is why Kurt found himself on the edge of Blaine’s bed to the second time that day.

Blaine was sleeping fitfully, his wrists clutched to his chest and curled up into a tiny ball in the middle of the bed, whimpering softly in his sleep.

“Time to wake up, Blaine.” Kurt said, but Blaine didn’t react. After calling out twice more Kurt placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him gently. 

Blaine twitched and the movement of his own body seemed to wake him from whatever dream he had been trapped in. He breathed a sigh of relieve when his eyes fell on Kurt. 

“Is it time to go?” Blaine asked. His voice was hoarse and shaky.

“Yeah, but we’re in no hurry. Bad dream?” Kurt looked at him in concern. 

Blaine nodded. His eyes fell on the closet. “What would you like me to wear outside, Kurt?”

Kurt sighed, but didn’t call Blaine on his attempt of deflecting. “How about these black jeans…” He got up and pulled the pair he was talking about from the closet “…and this red sweatshirt? It’s pretty cold outside, so I’ll go find you a coat. How about you go get dressed and meet me by the door?”

“Yes, Kurt.” Blaine said, looking relieved. 

A coat for Blaine was easily found in Kurt’s vast collection, he opted for one of the warmer coats he had. With the lack of insulation on Blaine’s body, he’d need all the extra padding he could get. Winter was fast approaching and the last thing Blaine needed right now was to catch a cold. 

In the entrance hall Kurt remembered that Blaine didn’t even own a pair of shoes. “Blaine?” He called across the hall. “What shoe size do you wear?” 

At Kurt’s call Blaine came rushing out of his room, almost tripping over his own feet. He was dressed in the clothes Kurt had laid out for him, the sweatshirt that had admittedly been large on Kurt was hanging off him like a little tent, but it was warm, so Kurt decided not to make him change out of it. The jeans however were held up by nothing but Blaine’s hands that were clutching the waistband and keeping the pants from falling to the ground. 

“A size 12, Kurt.” He answered Kurt’s question.

“Okay, I think I still have some in that size from when I was younger. Wait here for a minute.” 

Kurt hurried back into his room and rummaged through the collection of old shoes that were stacked neatly in boxes in the back of his walk-in closet. 

“Ha!” He yelled in triumph when he found a pair of size 12 boots. On his way out of the closet he grabbed a black leather belt with a simple square metal buckle for Blaine’s pants and hurried back upstairs. 

“I think I found something for you.” He called out to Blaine as he made his way down the stairs to the entrance hall.

When Blaine spun around to face him his eyes went wide, Kurt smiled and hurried over to where Blaine was waiting for him. 

In confusion he watched as the color drained from Blaine’s face. The boy raised his arms, holding his hands in front of his face as if to shield it from blows. His pants dropped the moment he let go of the waistband, pooling around Blaine’s ankles, so when he took a defensive step sideways, he tripped over the fabric and landed with his left side first on the floor, arms curled around his head.

“Blaine!” Kurt called out in shock, dropping the shoebox and belt to kneel down by Blaine’s side. “Are you hurt?” He asked, frantically trying to pull at Blaine’s hands, so he could see Blaine’s face. 

“Please, I’m sorry.” Blaine cried out, when Kurt pulled his hands away, clasping them tightly with both of his own. “I’m sorry.”

“Calm down, Blaine, please! What happened?” Blaine was looking up at him, eyes still wide with fear and Kurt was suddenly painfully aware of how he had manhandled Blaine in his panic to make sure he was okay. He let go of Blaine’s hands, trying to give him space. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked in what he hoped was a calm tone.

“Please don’t make me wait for it.” Blaine whimpered, curling up on the floor, his pants still trapped around his ankles, leaving his bare legs exposed to the cold tile floor. 

“Wait for what, Blaine?” Kurt asked trying to catch Blaine’s gaze.

“The be- …the beating.” Blaine whispered.

“What beat-“ his eyes followed Blaine’s gaze and found the belt that lay discarded on the floor next to him. His heart sank. “Oh Blaine, no! No one’s getting beaten. Sweety, no! This is for your pants, to help hold them up, so this doesn’t happen.” He indicated towards the fabric trapping Blaine’s ankles. 

Blaine was looking from Kurt to the belt and back as if waiting for Kurt to change his mind. Then slowly, he pulled himself into a sitting position. He kept his eyes on Kurt when he pulled the pants back up over his legs. 

“Let me help you up.” Kurt said, carefully reaching for Blaine. When Blaine didn’t flinch, he pulled him back to his feet with ease.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself falling?” Kurt asked.

“No, Kurt, I’m fine, Kurt.” Blaine whispered, pulling his pants in place, looking at the floor in shame.

Kurt dropped back to his knees to retrieve the fallen items. “Let me help you with the belt?” He asked, now directly in Blaine’s sight, holding out the belt to him like an offering.

Blaine looked uncertain for a moment, but nodded after taking a deep breath. 

“I’m so sorry I scared you.” Kurt apologized. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m so so sorry.” He pulled the belt through the first loop, then the next. “I promised I’d never beat you and I meant it.” He could feel Blaine release a shaky breath as he reached around the other boy to push the belt through the loops on the back of his jeans. “It’s not gonna happen, ever, I swear.” The belt went through the last loop and Kurt looked up. “Are you sure you didn’t hurt yourself?” He asked as he pulled the belt tight. 

“Yes.” Blaine said, breathing deeply and Kurt could tell he was finally relaxing now that the belt was fastened around him and in no way a weapon anymore. “Thank you, I’m sorry, I’m fine.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Kurt assured him, pulling the boots from the box. 

“Let’s see if those fit.” He helped Blaine step into the left boot and pulled up the zipper. 

“Comfortable?” He asked.

“Very, thank you, Kurt.” The boy in question smiled and helped Blaine into the other boot as well. 

“There we go.” He said, pulling the coat he had selected for Blaine earlier from the coat rack, holding it open for Blaine. Thankfully it was really big for Blaine as well, so he didn’t have to pull his arms back too far to slip in. 

Kurt pulled on his own shoes and coat, before looking Blaine over one last time, his eyes lingering on Blaine’s bare hands. He rummaged through the pockets of another coat that still hung on the rack and pulled a produced a pair of fingerless gloves from its depths. 

“Put these on, too.” Kurt held the gloves open so all Blaine had to do was wriggle his fingers into them. They were really warm and a very nice dark blue, which is why Kurt had initially bought them, but they were too small for his hands, so he’d never worn them before, even though they were a little stretchy. On Blaine’s hands they were perfect. 

“Okay then, let’s go.” He said, opening the door for Blaine and directing him into the passenger’s seat of his Navigator.


	18. Chapter 18

The air outside was cold and the howling wind didn’t exactly improve that. Blaine was shivering by the time they were seated in the car. 

“If you want to I can turn on the seat heating.” Kurt offered.

“What’s a seat heating?” Blaine asked, shivering.

“It erm… well it makes the car seat get warm, it’s really nice. I’ll put it on for both of us, just tell me if you don’t like it and I’ll turn it off, okay?” He flicked two switches on the control panel and pulled out of the driveway. 

Half a minute later Blaine gasped in surprise and leaned forward, looking at his seat in disbelief.

“Do you like it?” Kurt asked. 

Blaine smiled in excitement, leaning back against his seat again. “It’s nice.” He said with an excited tone in his voice. “It feels nice on the bruises on my back.” He added with a tone of surprise after a while.

“That’s good.” Kurt said smiling, but focused on the road.

They arrived at the doctor’s office 15 minutes early, but there was no secretary at the reception desk when they entered, the entrance hall was only dimly lit. Kurt wondered if the secretary even knew the doctor was seeing patients after hours.

Blaine kept close to Kurt as they walked, his eyes firmly fixed on the ground, and for a moment Kurt was tempted to wrap an arm around the other boy’s shoulders, but after what had just happened in the entrance hall at home he knew it would be a terrible idea. 

“Are you alright?” Kurt asked as they made their way towards the waiting room. Blaine looked up at him startled, but nodded.

Kurt opened the waiting room’s door. 

The room was brightly lit in contrast to the front room, so it took his eyes a second to adjust properly, when they did Kurt was surprised to see they weren’t the only occupants of the waiting area. Two boys were sitting in chairs next to each other on the opposite side of the room. Kurt guessed they were about the same age as himself and Blaine. 

They were looking at the new arrivals. 

“Hi.” Kurt gave an awkward wave and received two equally awkward waves in return. Blaine was still standing next to him, looking at the ground. Kurt helped him out of his coat and hug both of their coats onto a coatrack next to the door.

“Here, sit down with me.” Kurt said, closing the waiting room door behind them and directing Blaine to a chair while taking up the adjoining one himself. Blaine sat stiffly, eyes on the floor. Kurt knew it had to be due to some sort of ‘proper slave behaviour in public places’ training, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Blaine he should stop. He could tell Blaine was nervous enough without Kurt criticizing his behaviour. 

Kurt’s focus was pulled from Blaine by the sound of quiet whispers from across the room. He looked up in time to see the boys on the other side of the room look away. 

Not quite knowing what to do with himself he picked up a magazine from the chair next to his and opened it at a random page. The whispering across the room resumed as soon as he looked away. 

The unsettling feeling of being watched was making him shift nervously in his seat. He looked up again and was met with the sight of the boys frantically whispering to each other again. 

Belatedly he wondered if he should have been more careful with how he treated Blaine, but all he had done since they entered the room was tell him to sit. Should he have made Blaine sit on the floor? But if they were judging him for treating his slave too nicely, why were they at the doctor’s office at this hour anyway? Then again, neither of them looked like a slave, so maybe they were emergency patients or something.

He looked at them again. One of them was tall, thin looking even in his coat, with blonde hair that reminded him of Sam’s, the other one was shorter and stockier, with dark hair and currently with a pleading look on his face. Frowning, he looked back down into his magazine. 

Kurt stiffened when, after another minute of whispering, the boys abandoned their seats and made their way across the room.

He tossed the magazine back onto the table and stood up as well, shielding Blaine from the gaze of the approaching boys. Kurt wasn’t sure what they wanted, but he was pretty sure he could take them both in a fight if necessary.

The blonde boy came to a halt in front of Kurt, while the dark haired boy remained a step behind. 

“Hi” the blonde boy said, squaring his shoulders “I’m Jeff. I was hoping that maybe you’d allow our slaves to interact.” He pointed towards the boy behind him and now that Kurt saw him up close he could see a brand peeking out over the boy’s scarf. The boy really was a slave. What the hell was going on?

“What do you mean ‘interact’?” Kurt asked warily, crossing his arms before his chest. Jeff swallowed and looked back at the boy behind him. Kurt felt excluded from whatever sort of telepathic conversation the two of them had within the mere seconds their glance lasted. 

Kurt frowned, Jeff wasn’t really treating the dark-haired boy like a slave. In fact, Kurt hadn’t thought either of them was a slave when he had looked at them earlier. Jeff interrupted his thought process.

“I would really appreciate it if you’d allow your slave to talk to mine. You see” Jeff seemed to be thinking hard “Nick here, doesn’t get much chance to talk to another slave because we live …erm… far, far away from… erm…” Kurt didn’t know why, but the boy was failing miserably at coming up with a lie for him.

“Blaine, do you know either of these gentlemen?” He asked, turning around to face Blaine and stepping out of the way slightly, so as not to block Blaine’s view of the boys.

Blaine looked up for the first time since they entered the room; he looked at Jeff in confusion, but then his eyes flared in recognition as they landed on the other slave.

“Nick!” He gasped, a bright smile instantly appearing on his face. Kurt sighed in relief; he had been really worried they were in trouble for a second.

“You know him.” He stated the obvious. “You wanna catch up?” 

Blaine looked at him uncertainly for a moment but then nodded enthusiastically. Kurt smiled and stepped out of the way. 

“Careful with his back.” He warned in the last possible second as Nick breezed past him and pulled Blaine into his arms, just in time to stop Nick from patting Blaine’s back. Blaine hugged Nick back with equal force, burying his face in the slightly taller boy’s shoulder. 

Kurt tore his eyes away for a second to look at Jeff who was smiling brightly at the scene in front of him. “So I take it they know each other?” Kurt asked. 

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, oh man, I really thought we were in trouble there for a second.” He bumped Kurt’s shoulder amicably. 

Kurt gave a breathy laugh. “Yeah, me too. So how do you two know each other?”

“We had the same owner for a few months.” Nick explained, still holding Blaine close. “We shared a bunk bed.” He pulled Blaine away from himself and looked at him at arms’ length, his happy grin turning into a frown and he looked at Kurt nervously and then shot a pleading look at Jeff.

“You didn’t… you didn’t do this to him-“

“NO!” Blaine interrupted before Jeff could finish his question, seemingly startled at his own volume he lowered his voice. “No, he didn’t”, he promised, looking from Jeff to Nick. “Kurt saved me from the market. He’s been nothing but good to me.” Blaine’s looked at Kurt and in a whisper added “I wouldn’t be here, if it wasn’t for him.” 

Nick seemed convinced and pulled Blaine in for another hug, when the waiting room’s door opened and Dr. Holland walked in on the scene. 

“Oh”, she said surprised at the scene that greeted her, but smiling softly. “Hello Blaine, Kurt. I’m glad you could make it. I see you met some friends?” Jeff nodded, bumping Kurt’s shoulder again. 

Blaine and Nick reluctantly untangled themselves and turned to face the doctor. 

“I’m ready to see you now, Nick.” She said, gesturing towards the door. 

“Here, give me your number.” Kurt said, holding out his phone to Jeff. “And I’ll ring you right now, so you have mine. We can meet some other time if Blaine and Nick want.” Both boys nodded eagerly and watched their owners exchange phone numbers, before Jeff and Nick followed the doctor out of the room.

Blaine was looking after them with a bright smile and teary eyes for a minute, before abruptly turning to Kurt. “I can see him again?” He asked as though Jeff’s and Kurt’s conversation had only just registered in his mind. 

“You can.” Kurt assured him, smiling at Blaine’s expression. 

“Thank you, Kurt.” 

The silence that followed was slightly uncomfortable, at least to Kurt; Blaine didn’t seem to notice. “So… you and Nick used to live together?” Kurt asked tentatively, on the one hand not wanting to burst Blaine’s happy bubble, but on the other hand wanting to satisfy his own curiosity about Blaine’s past owner, at least one of them.

“Yes, Kurt. We had the same master.” Blaine answered and allowed Kurt to guide him back into his abandoned seat.

“What was it like there?” Kurt pressed on.

“It was great!” He said, much to Kurt’s surprise. “We got beds there and food three times a day.”

“That’s good.” Kurt agreed. “Was this with your first master?” 

Blaine stiffened instantly and shook his head vigorously. “No, Kurt. He was my third master, but they didn’t tell him that at the market, they put me in with the 50% off.” 

Kurt nodded in understanding. Paperwork on slaves was as good as non-existent, so it was common practice to try and sell slaves for higher prices if they could be passed off as ‘newer’.

“Would you tell me about him?” Kurt asked, watching Blaine closely.

“He was nice. There were twelve of us slaves at all times, he called us his “Warblers” and got us matching clothes.” Blaine bit his lips. “But he got bored fast and when he got bored he sold one of us and bought a new Warbler instead. But he kept me for three whole months.”   
He exclaimed the last part as though it was a big accomplishment and to Blaine it was. 

Blaine’s expression had saddened and Kurt felt like hitting himself for causing Blaine to stop smiling like he had 5 minutes ago. 

“I’m keeping you, you know.” Kurt said firmly. “As long as you want to stay with me, you can.” 

Blaine looked at him, his face contorting as though he was in pain. “Please.” He pleaded.

“What? What is it?” Kurt asked, startled by the pain in Blaine’s eyes as the boy blinked rapidly to keep the wetness in his eyes at bay.

“I know I have no right to ask for anything, but please, Kurt, please don’t tell me things like that.” He swallowed hard. 

“Things like what?” Kurt asked, confused.

“Beautiful ideas like that.”

Kurt felt paralyzed for a moment, not knowing what to do or say. The hitch in Blaine’s breath brought him back. 

“I’m not lying to you.” He said, his voice shaky “I won’t sell you or give you away. I’m keeping you. You’re staying with me. For as long as you can stand me.”

“What if I don’t want to leave ever?” Blaine asked so quietly that Kurt almost didn’t hear him. He lowered his head but Kurt caught his chin softly and forced him to look back up at him.

“Then I’m never saying goodbye to you.” Kurt answered with as steady a voice as he could muster, looking straight into Blaine’s eyes. 

It was like he felt something give. He could almost see it in Blaine’s eyes, but he felt it in his chest more than anything and before he knew what he was doing he was opening his arms for the other boy and was rewarded with an armful of Blaine. 

Blaine who tentatively wrapped his arms around Kurt’s chest and allowed him to enclose his tiny body in a hug; his body felt fragile in Kurt’s arms and more than ever Kurt knew that he had to be infinitely careful with Blaine if he didn’t want him to break.

“You’re safe.” Kurt whispered into Blaine’s hair where he had pressed his face. He carefully ran his hand over Blaine’s left shoulder where he knew Blaine wasn’t hurt and dragged the fingers of his other hand gently through the curls in the nape of Blaine’s neck. 

Blaine was shaking against him, so hard it almost felt as though he was vibrating. But he didn’t let go, so Kurt continued to let him muffle his sobs in his shoulder. After a few minutes he caught himself whispering comforting nonsense in Blaine’s ear over and over. “You’re safe. I’m keeping you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Eventually the shaking stopped and he felt Blaine draw in a deep calming breath. When Blaine loosened his grip Kurt did the same, allowing Blaine to retreat. 

“You’re okay.” Kurt assured him when Blaine looked as though he might try and apologize. “You’re fine.” 

Kurt’s head was swimming with relief; he could tell he gotten something right, something really important, even though he didn’t know what it was.

Blaine took the tissue Kurt offered him and dried his tears, careful with his black eye before blowing his nose. 

Minutes passed in companionable silence during which Blaine’s breathing evened out and his eyes were starting to look less puffy.


	19. Chapter 19

By the time Dr. Holland called for them, Blaine was as calm and collected as Kurt had ever seen him.

Smiling kindly, she directed them towards the examination room and asked Blaine to change into a hospital gown behind a privacy partition.

“Would you like Kurt to stay here with you for the examination, dear?” She asked.

“Yes, please, Madam.” Blaine answered from behind the partition. The doctor smiled at Kurt and picked up a clipboard from her desk. Blaine emerged a minute later, clad in a blue hospital gown that was huge on him, like everything else. The doctor instructed him to sit down on the examination table and pulled up a chair for Kurt to sit down next to the table before grabbing a seat for herself.

“Well, Blaine, I can already see you’re looking a lot better than you did two days ago. I’m glad. You’re being an excellent nurse, Kurt.” She winked at him good naturedly.

“Now I’m sure you want to hear the test results.” At Blaine’s frantic nod she quickly continued. “Your blood work came back positive for syphilis I’m afraid, but you’re in the first stage of the disease, which means that a dose of Bicillin will clear that up. What’s gonna happen now is, I’m going to examine you first. Then I’ll inject two shots of the medicine into your butt; it’ll hurt a bit, but not for long. There will be follow up blood tests. The first one will be scheduled in three months and then every three months after that, those are necessary to make sure the syphilis has completely cleared up. If you have sexual contact during this period of time, make sure to keep it safe: use condoms.” Kurt felt himself blush slightly at the topic, but kept his face straight, hoping the change in color would go unnoticed.

“At the end, I’m going to take an X-ray of your chest and upper arm, so we can see if your previous breaks have healed properly. Does that sound like an okay plan?” She asked. Blaine nodded in agreement, clearly baffled at her question, but smiling.

“Great, thank you. Now while I’m already sitting here, I’m going to start with your knees, okay?” Blaine lifted the hospital gown to his thighs without being asked, earning himself a smile of approval from the doctor.

Gently she prodded along the edges of the swelling, observing Blaine’s reaction to various touches. “Is it more or less painful to you than it was two days ago, Blaine?”

“Less painful, Madam, at the market I had to be on my knees most of the time for a few weeks, but I’ve only been on my knees once since Friday.” He explained.

“That’s good. The fluid build-up seems to have gone down as well. If you stay off your knees it may just go back to normal all by itself, but if it doesn’t we’ll have to figure out what to do. I want an update on this in two weeks from either of you.” She insisted and Kurt nodded, making a mental note to check Blaine’s knees again soon.

“Okay, let’s move on. Your face is healing very nicely, that’s great. Please drop the top half of the gown.” Blaine untied the string that kept the gown tied around his neck and obediently exposed his upper body, shivering a little.

“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t pleasant, dear.” Dr. Holland said sympathetically. “I’ll try and be quick.” She examined the healing bruises on the front of Blaine’s torso and seemed satisfied with the result. “Yeah, that’s looking good too. I’m going to move on to your back now, just stay seated like this.”

She walked around the examination table, for a good view of Blaine’s back.

“I’m going to remove the bandages now.” She warned Blaine, putting on a fresh pair of examination gloves and making quick work of the gauze on his back.

Kurt offered his hand and to his surprise Blaine took it without a moment’s hesitation.

“No sign of infection.” The doctor declared after a few minutes of checking the cuts. “You did a fantastic job, Kurt, they’re healing well. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up and they should be fading within the next three weeks.” Blaine smiled happily at the news.

“Now, I’m afraid it’s time to move on to the less pleasant part. Blaine, I’m going to have to ask you to lie down on your stomach. Kurt, could you move this chair to the end of the table? You’ll have an easier time providing moral support, if Blaine still wants you to stay?”

Blaine nodded instantly.

“Okay then. I’m going to expose your buttocks now.” Blaine nodded bracing himself. Kurt fixed his eyes on Blaine’s face, making absolutely sure he wasn’t looking anywhere else.

“You will feel two injections, one into each buttock. They will hurt a little, but I would still ask you to try and relax as much as you can, alright?”

“Yes, Madam.” Blaine answered, face contorting a little. Kurt offered him his other hand and Blaine took it gratefully, allowing Kurt to interlock their fingers.

“It’s okay, I got you.” Kurt whispered encouragingly, earning a brave nod from Blaine.

He could see the moment the needle found its target in Blaine’s face, but while it was obviously painful, Blaine still looked relieved as though he had expected it to be far worse.

“I’m going to put a band aid on now.” The doctor announced, still keeping up her running commentary for which Kurt was eternally grateful, since it seemed to calm Blaine.

The second injection that followed a minute later wasn’t received with as much of a cringe as the first.

When it was over Blaine slumped on the table, resting his cheek against the hard leather, covered in protective paper.

“You did very well, Blaine.” Dr. Holland praised him, while covering him back up. “We’re almost done too. Please follow me into the next room.”

The boys got up, Blaine with some difficulty now that he was trying to put pressure on neither his knees nor his butt and made to follow her. She stopped at the door.

“I’m sorry, Blaine, but Kurt can’t stay with you for the X-ray, but I promise nothing bad is going to happen.” Blaine looked at Kurt uncertainly, but Kurt just nodded encouragingly, so Blaine followed the doctor out the door, leaving Kurt alone in the examination room.

Kurt sighed, stretching his stiff muscles which resulted in the grumbling of his stomach. That was when he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Shaking his head at his own neglect of himself he sat back down in his chair, where he had been holding Blaine’s hands only seconds ago, and waited.

 

Kurt could still feel the phantom touch of Blaine’s curls against his neck from their earlier hug and absent-mindedly ran his hand over the skin there. He brushed against his collar and felt the slight dampness there; his heart clenching in sympathy. He wanted to hug Blaine again, tight and maybe in a less awkward position than they had been in, sitting in those waiting room chairs.

Blaine wanted to stay with him even though he’d only known him for a couple of days, Kurt felt oddly warm at the thought.

An onslaught of possible scenarios assaulted his brain.  
All through his teenage years he had wanted nothing more than to leave Ohio far behind, to get out and move to a big city, but with his senior year came college applications and with the college applications came the doubts.

The thought of leaving this town behind and to live on his own had been so appealing for so long; he didn’t even really dare confess to himself that the idea scared him now. Kurt loved his dad more than anything in the world and he’d grown to love Carole and maybe even Finn over the past two years and something had changed. He wasn’t used to fending for himself anymore, not the way he had been when it was just him and his dad, and now that he knew what having a family felt like, he wasn’t sure if he could make do without them.

But maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t have to fend for himself; maybe Blaine could come to New York with him, if he actually managed to get into a school there.

Of course that wasn’t really an option. His family could hardly afford to send Kurt to University as it was and sending a slave with him just to keep him company wasn’t an option if there was ever going to be a chance for Blaine to earn his freedom.

He jumped when the door was opened and the doctor led Blaine back into the room.  
Dr. Holland motioned for Blaine to take a seat again. He winced a little as he sat down, but quickly schooled his face into a somewhat neutral expression.

“Alright, so I took a look at Blaine’s X-ray. It seems like the fractures have healed well enough on their own, so there’ll be no need to correct them.” Blaine rubbed his right upper arm subconsciously, nodding at the doctor’s words.

Kurt swallowed. He was dying to ask just how many fractures they were talking about, but the uncomfortable look on Blaine’s face stopped him, for now.

“So overall, it’s looking a lot better than I could have hoped for.” She concluded, smiling brightly at Blaine. “I would like you to keep me updated, Kurt, and call me if you need something, okay? You’re doing great, Blaine.”

“Thank you.” Kurt said at the same time as Blaine said “Thank you, Madam.”

“Would you mind getting our coats from the waiting room, Blaine?” Kurt asked, cringing internally at giving an order. Blaine hopped off the examination table happily and scurried out of the room.

“Did they- does he have- were there a lot of breaks?” He asked hastily, knowing Blaine would be back in a few seconds.

“Quite a few, I’m afraid, none of them looked professionally treated, he was lucky they healed this well on their own.” She sighed sadly. “Keep looking after him, alright? I’m not gonna charge you for this visit, I just can’t, the poor boy.”

Blaine came back, with their coats in his arms just as Kurt thanked the doctor.

They took turns helping each other into their respective coats and, after another round of ‘goodbye’s and ‘thank you’s, they made their way back to the car.

Kurt could see Blaine bite his lower lip as he sat down.

“Does it hurt a lot?” He asked, concerned.

Blaine looked puzzled for a moment before hastily shaking his head “No, it’s not bad.” He answered before nervously adding “Maybe- if it pleases you- maybe the seat heating could stay off?”

“Sure, whatever you prefer.” Kurt switched the dials back to off before starting the car. “Put on your seatbelt, please.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, before Kurt realized he had something to discuss with Blaine.

“So, I have to go to school tomorrow morning.” He began. Blaine nodded, sitting up straighter and tilting his head a little as if he was getting ready to absorb everything Kurt was about to tell him.

“Dad and Carole are going to work and Finn’s going to school too, so you’ll be home alone til about 3 pm.”

“What would you like me to do in your absence?” Blaine asked.

“I don’t know, I mean, I think you should sleep as much as you can and …erm… there’s the TV and loads of books in my room and the living room. Can you read?” He asked just to be sure.

“Yes, Kurt, my brother taught me how when I was 5.”

“Oh… that’s great.” Kurt said, glancing away from the road and at Blaine for a moment, feeling a little uncertain. He wanted to ask about Blaine’s family, but for most slaves it was a rather painful subject and he really didn’t want to bring up any more bad memories right now.

“So yeah, there’s that, maybe that can keep you occupied for a while.”

“Should I not complete any chores, Kurt?” Blaine asked, sounding slightly confused.

“No, no, absolutely not, maybe when in a few weeks, when you’re a bit stronger, but right now… just get better, okay?”

“Yes, Kurt, I’m sorry, Kurt. I’ll be much better, I promise.” Blaine said quietly.

“What, no, I meant healthy, focus on getting healthy, you don’t have to do anything better, okay? That’s not what I meant, I just want you healthy.”

“Oh.” He could feel Blaine’s gaze on him and stole a glance at the boy in the passenger seat. His eyes were big in the dim light emitted by the console, the look on his face awestruck.

He pulled up in the Hummel-Hudson’s driveway a minute later and hurried Blaine inside, where it was warm.

“I don’t know about you,” he said as he pulled off his shoes “but I’m really tired. Are you okay with heading to bed early?”

“Yes, Kurt. Of course.” Blaine answered, hanging Kurt’s borrowed coat on the rack. He pulled off the gloves as well. “Erm- Kurt?” Blaine asked, catching his attention, holding out the gloves to him uncertainly.

“Oh, those are yours.” Kurt said, shrugging his own coat off.

“I- I don’t understand, Kurt.” Blaine said, still holding the gloves out to him.

Kurt closed Blaine’s fingers around the pair of gloves, smiling softly. “They belong to you now. My hands are much too big for them, I could never wear them, but they fit perfectly on you, so you keep them.”

Blaine’s eyes went comically wide as he pulled the blue gloves against his chest, looking at Kurt disbelievingly. “Thank you.” He gasped, when Kurt made no motion to take them back.

Once Blaine was safe and warm in bed, Kurt found himself sitting in the living room with a stack of post-it. Burt and Carole seemed to have gone to bed early as well, but he could still hear video game noises emitting from Finn’s bedroom, so he knew he wasn’t the only one awake in the house.

‘Read anything you like’ He wrote on the first post-it, before he got up and stuck it onto one of the wooden boards of the bookshelf. ‘You can watch whatever you want’, the blue post it on the TV said.

‘Have whatever you like, but make sure it’s stomach friendly’ got stuck on the freezer and once more on the basket of bread.

Kurt moved on to the bathroom and smiled to himself as he wrote ‘Have all the warm water you like’ and stuck it to the bathtub. He wondered if he should put up anything else, but he couldn’t really think of anything, so he wrote one more post-it.

As silently as he could he opened the door to Blaine’s room and stuck it just above the light switch. He allowed himself a last quick glance at Blaine’s sleeping form, before he retreated back into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind himself and leaving

 

‘Good morning Blaine,

I’ll be home by 3 pm, call me if you need anything: 

701 – 555 - 107 

I hope you have a good day. 

– Kurt’

 

for Blaine to find first thing in the morning.


	20. Chapter 20

Kurt hadn’t dreaded going to school this much since the previous year when the football team, led by one David Karofsky, had made it their mission in life to make his every day as miserable as possible. That is, until Karofsky had a sudden change of heart and stopped targeting Kurt altogether. He still didn’t know what suddenly made his former bully transfer schools, but it didn’t matter to Kurt any more. 

All he wanted at the moment was to stay home with Blaine. The slave had still been asleep when Kurt and Finn had left the house together half an hour ago. In the back of his head Kurt silently hoped that Blaine would sleep through the day until after school, but he knew it was an unrealistic thought.

“See you in glee club.” Finn called, hurrying into the school to meet up with the guys before class. Kurt took his time locking up the car and heading into the building. He caught himself ducking by the dumpster, even though no one had tossed him in for over two years.

Checking his clock he realized that they had arrived at school a little later than usual, so he sped up his steps to get his books out of his locker and make it to class on time.

He had just turned a corner when two bodies collided with his, sending Kurt tumbling to the floor. 

“Watch where you’re going, homo!” A voice above him snarled as its owner walked past Kurt. He looked up to see Rick ‘the stick’ Nelson and his stepbrother Reggie Salazar Jr. retreat down the hallway. 

“Do those mullets run in both your families, or is it one of those habitual things like your periods synching up!?” Kurt called after them, rage bubbling up inside of him at the sight of the two of them giving each other a high five. 

He pushed himself to his feet, glad that he had been shoved to the floor and not against a locker this time, and hurried to his locker, barely making it to math class on time.

“Where have you been?” Rachel whispered, as he sunk into the seat next to hers the moment the bell rang and the teacher closed the classroom door behind himself.

“Late and then blocked by idiocy.” He mumbled, opening his book. Rachel frowned for a moment before putting on a cheerful face and giving the teacher her full attention. 

McKinley’s curriculum wasn’t exactly challenging, but Rachel still liked to make a good impression on every single teacher. Kurt had asked her about it once and had been punished by a half hour long Rachel-Berry-monologue about the importance of letters of recommendation, he had not questioned her school related motives ever since.

Luckily for him, Rachel took up all of the teacher’s attention, allowing Kurt to idly sketch a blazer in his notebook. Kurt’s thoughts weren’t focused on his design though. He was too busy wondering whether Blaine was still asleep or if he had had breakfast yet. 

Kurt knew that, being a slave, Blaine was probably used to being left alone at home while his owners were out for work. Even if he wasn’t, Blaine was only a year younger than him, so Kurt knew that Blaine should be able to take care of himself for half a day. Still, he couldn’t help but worry about the beaten up boy in their guestroom.

“Mister Hummel, would you care to grace us with your mental presence?”

Kurt looked up from his doodle, glancing at the board for a few seconds before answering. “F(x) is positive for all real values of x except for x = -2.” The teacher gave an annoyed huff before refocusing his attention back to the blackboard. Kurt sighed in relief, deciding to save the doodling for home economics class. He was just about to find a blank page in his notebook to write on when the bell rang. 

Quinn was beside Rachel’s desk, gathering up her belongings before Kurt had even had the time to put his pen away. For a fee, slaves were allowed to silently sit in the back of their owner’s class during lessons, so they could immediately attend their owner’s needs after the lesson ended. Hardly any students made use of this possibility, but Rachel Berry did not carry her own books. 

“Good morning, Mister Hummel.” Quinn mumbled in passing before running to catch up with Rachel, who hadn’t bothered to wait for her slave. Kurt suppressed the intense desire to facepalm at her actions and settled for glaring at her during the next class they had together.

Alongside with boredom, home economics class provided Kurt with an infinite amount of time to come up with new insults about mullets, due to the fact that he had the misfortune of being seated right behind Rick Nelson. Though that day, the insults just wouldn’t come to him. 

All he could do was glare at the back or the hockey players head and wonder if he had ever laid a hand on Blaine. If Kurt’s experiences with him were any indication, he had. The thought made his stomach coil. Kurt realized that he had no idea how long Rick’s family had had Blaine, but considering Rick, like Kurt, had been about 13 years old when Blaine was first sold, he couldn’t have been involved in whatever happened to Blaine…could he? 

Kurt felt nauseated thinking about other people’s hands on Blaine. He tried to force the thoughts from his head by focusing on the drawing of the blazer in his notebook once more. It didn’t work.

By the time lunchtime rolled around Kurt couldn’t contain his anxiety any more. He ditched Rachel and Quinn by ducking into an empty classroom and pulled out his phone.

He dialed the number of the Hummel-Hudson house phone, listening to the dial tone in anticipation.

There was no answer, the phone just kept ringing. 

Kurt took a deep breath, everything was alright. It had to be, Blaine was probably just asleep. He hit re-dial just to be sure.

“You’ve reached the Hummel-Hudson’s,” his father’s voice answered the phone “please leave a message after-“

Kurt ended the call, shoving the cell phone back into his pocket. “Shit.” He cursed quietly, picking up his bag from the desk he had placed it on and making his way to the cafeteria after all. Blaine probably just wasn’t sure whether or not he was allowed to answer the phone, Kurt figured, trying to remember whether or not he had given Blaine instructions on that. 

Rachel had saved him a seat next to her in the cafeteria, where she was currently eating with the other members of the New Directions. Kurt looked around the table, smiling fondly. 

As far as show choirs went they were pretty pathetic; they had never even managed to get enough members to compete in a show choir competition. Even so, the people sitting at the table felt a bit like family to Kurt, and not just because Finn was sitting with them.   
He was so lost in thought that he almost stepped on Quinn, who was sitting at Rachel’s feet. 

“Oh my- Quinn!” Kurt exclaimed, pulling his foot back at the last possible second. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

“It’s alright, Mister Hummel.” Quinn answered in a nonchalant tone. 

“I can’t believe Figgins keeps insisting on the ‘slaves on the floor’ rule.” He said to Rachel as he stepped over Quinn to sit down in the chair next to her. Rachel shrugged. “What can you do?” She asked rhetorically.

“I wish they’d at least allow pillows.” Tina mumbled from the other side of the table, she didn’t look up though, and kept her somewhat puffy eyes focused on her almost empty plate. 

“Tina, are you al-“ Kurt started. 

“What glittery hole have you been hiding in all day?” Santana interrupted him by arriving at the table and dumping her lunch tray opposite Kurt’s seat. She was looking straight at Kurt and while she spoke in her usual snarky voice, Kurt knew she actually wanted to talk to him, but not in front of everyone. 

“Asked the girl who has 4 minutes left to finish her lunch?” Kurt asked. Santana glared at him and started eating her serving of pasta with remarkable speed. “I had to call home.” He added. Santana looked up at that, and after assessing his expression, gave a knowing nod. 

“Me too.” She said, focusing on her food again but unable to supress a little smile. 

Mercedes and Artie had abandoned their initial conversation in favour of giving Kurt and Santana confused looks. Kurt couldn’t blame them; it wasn’t as though Santana usually made a habit of chatting with him when she didn’t have to, at least not in public. 

“So…” Mercedes said as the odd silence at the table stretched on. “Sam is dancing on Saturday, anyone up for joining me to come watch?” 

“I’m coming with.” Tina said without a moment’s hesitation, earning a pleased look from Mercedes.

“What about you, Kurt?” Mercedes asked.

“Oh no” Kurt shook his head. “Once was more than enough, thank you very much.”

Sam was Mercedes’ slave and trained in entertainment. Mercedes’ father had gotten him as a Christmas present for her three years ago. Sam had just been put on the market with nothing but a month of basic entertainment training. 

Basic entertainment training, Kurt had learned, consisted mostly of dance lessons unless an owner required their slave to acquire a different skillset. Unlike most slaves Kurt had met though, Sam honestly enjoyed it. Enjoyed it to the point even, where he had asked Mercedes if maybe she would allow him to perform for an audience every now and then.

While Kurt would never claim to understand the odd relationship Mercedes and Sam had, he knew Mercedes couldn’t say no to Sam’s goofy puppy-faces, which is how it came to be that once every other week Mercedes rented Sam to a strip club in Westerville for a dance performance. 

She had dragged Kurt along to watch the show with her once. He had enjoyed the dancing, but the somewhat seedy club was absolutely not his scene and he didn’t even want to consider what was probably happening in the closed-off booths where people could buy private dances. 

Sam was not for rent, Mercedes would never allow it, Kurt knew which is why she always stayed at the club and kept a close eye on her boy. 

Tina was Mercedes’ constant companion on those Saturdays, Kurt had never figured out why she put up with the trips though. When Kurt had joined them that one time, Tina had looked close to tears most of the night, much like she did now. 

The bell rang just as he was about to attempt to ask Tina if everything was alright again.

“Tina, are you-“ 

“Walk me to class, Hummel.” Santana interrupted, dragging him out of his seat. 

Students were filing out of the cafeteria in a hurry around them as Santana linked her arm with his and dragged him along. He threw a glance back at the table, where Artie was rubbing Tina’s arm in a comforting manner.

“How is he doing?” She asked quietly, redirecting his attention to her.

“Better, how’s Brittany?” Santana smiled an uncharacteristically happy smile. “She’s doing great.” She said. “She’s really worried about your hobbit though. Do you think there’s any way I could bring her over for a short visit after school?”

“Sure.” Kurt agreed. Blaine had seemed comfortable with Brittany in the car, Kurt figured being around her might be good for him. “Not today though, I’m not sure how he’s taking to being alone at home. Maybe tomorrow?”

Santana agreed and hurried off to her next class.

 

Later, Kurt didn’t remember a word of what any of his teachers had said that day. After sitting through another two lessons he decided to skip Glee club and made his way to the parking lot. With a quick look over his shoulder he got into the car and drove home, taking deep calming breaths. Blaine wasn’t a child. He could be home alone for a while. Kurt really hoped he wasn’t mistaken about that.

The driveway was empty like Kurt had expected, his parents and Finn were still out. He pulled up in the driveway and hurried to the front door, desperate to know Blaine was alright and getting ready to feel stupid for ever thinking otherwise. 

He unlocked the door quickly and ran into the house. Two steps into the front room, he tripped over Blaine’s figure and went crashing to the floor, barely keeping himself from full-on face planting. 

“Ow!” He groaned rolling onto his side, the shock of the impact paralyzing him for a moment.

“Kurt, Kurt! I’m so sorry!” Blaine cried, kneeling next to him and trying to pull him into a sitting position. “Are you alright, Sir?” He asked anxiously, worry flickering in his eyes.

“I’m okay.” Kurt said, helping Blaine pull him in a sitting position. “Get off your knees, you’ll hurt yourself.” He reminded Blaine, who dropped to his side so his weight rested on his side, rather than on his knees. He started frantically brushing imaginary dust off Kurt’s sleeves where he had landed on the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt, please, I didn’t mean to-” He said, brushing more urgently. Kurt caught his hand.

“It’s alright, I’m okay, nothing happened. Calm down, okay? You’re okay, I’m not mad.” Blaine took a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry, Kurt.” He said, looking up at Kurt. “Are you hurt?” He asked a moment later.

“I’m fine, what about you? I must have kicked you pretty hard when I tripped, are you alright?” Blaine’s hand subconsciously went to his thigh where Kurt had tripped over him. 

“I’m not hurt.” He said. 

“Good.” Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. He felt the tension of the past hours and the shock from the fall slowly subside. “What were you doing on the floor?” He asked. 

“I was waiting for you, Kurt.” Blaine said, nervously fumbling with the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m sorry, Kurt, I looked all over the house, but I couldn’t find the notes with my chores on them.” He pulled the notes Kurt had written the previous day from the pocket of his sweatpants. “I only found the rewards.” He held them out for Kurt to take as though they couldn’t possibly be meant for him.

Kurt silently cursed himself. “Blaine, I’m sorry, I should have talked to you and explained. There are no chores, at least not at the moment. These notes” he pointed at the post-it’s in Blaine’s hands “they were supposed to make you feel comfortable, but I guess that didn’t work.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt.” By the look on Blaine’s face, he could tell he was more confused than anything. Kurt sighed. 

“Don’t be, let’s get off the floor. Have you eaten yet?” 

Blaine shook his head. “No, Kurt. I haven’t done anything useful yet.”

“You don’t have to do anything to earn food. Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.” He pushed himself off the floor and watched Blaine follow his example. The boy was swaying precariously though, not quite finding his balance. 

“Come on, you need to eat, you’re too thin to get away with not eating for so long.” He guided Blaine into the kitchen and sat him down on the table. “Be honest, are you feeling dizzy?” He asked. 

“A little bit, Kurt.” Blaine answered.

“Okay, let’s get you some food. You really need to eat, even when I’m not here. You’re too thin as it is.” He turned his back to Blaine and started rummaging through the bread basket. 

“I’m sorry, Kurt.” 

Kurt let out a calming breath, abandoning his search for toast to steady himself with both hands on the counter. “Don’t be, okay?” His said in a much calmer voice. “It’s not your fault, I just… I was worried.” He turned to face Blaine and gave him the most encouraging smile he could manage. “I just need to know that you’re alright when I’m not here.” Blaine’s expression was unreadable, but he nodded. 

“How about we try toast with butter today?” At Blaine’s eager expression, Kurt pulled out the bread and put it in the toaster. “Do you like honey?” He asked the other boy, pulling a glass of it out of the cupboard.

“I’ve never had any, Kurt.” Blaine admitted before adding. “But it always smelled good.” 

“You’ve never-?“ Kurt cut himself off and pulled a spoon from one of the drawers. He scooped up half a spoon of the viscous liquid, twirled the spoon around and held it in front of Blaine’s mouth. “Try it.”

Blaine’s lips parted and he leaned forward, capturing the spoon with his mouth. Kurt let go of the spoon and watched Blaine’s eyes go wide with delight. A soft appreciative moan escaped from Blaine’s throat and he took a hold of the spoon’s handle to pull it out for a second before shoving it back into his mouth to suck the residual honey from it. Kurt felt a light blush creeping into his cheeks at the sound.

“You like it?” Kurt asked smiling in amusement at Blaine’s excited expression. He wondered if anyone had ever given Blaine any chocolate before.

“Yes, Kurt.” Blaine said, nodding eagerly. 

“You want some on your toast?” Kurt asked, just as the toasted bread popped out of the toaster. 

“I can have more?” Blaine asked. Kurt buttered the toast and added a generous amount of honey on top, making sure it wasn’t too much, so the liquid wouldn’t flow over the edge. 

“Here you go, eat slowly, okay?” He said, placing the toast in front of Blaine at the table before putting another two slices in the toaster. 

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Kurt watched Blaine eat from the corner of his eyes to make sure he was eating slowly, but also because the astonished expression on Blaine’s face was endearing, though he seemed to be getting tired rapidly. 

“I’m sorry the notes were confusing.” Kurt said after a while. “I just wanted you to know that you could do all those things even if I’m not home. It’s not something you have to earn in any way. These things are privileges that no one will take away from you. You can always have food, take a shower and read. You’re allowed to entertain yourself.” He explained. 

Blaine put down his toast and swallowed before answering. “I’m sorry I didn’t do as I was told, Kurt, I thought they were rewards for after the chores.”

“It’s okay, you know now.” Kurt said, finishing his toast and putting the plate in the sink. “Did you hear the phone ringing?” He asked when his gaze landed on the blinking light of the answering machine.

Blaine nodded slowly. “Yes, Kurt, I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to answer it.” Just like Kurt had suspected.

“Yeah, I guess I forgot to tell you that you can.” He watched Blaine supress a yawn, which resulted in a scrunched up expression.

“When did you wake up?” Kurt asked.

“When Mistress Carole left, Kurt.” He said. That was a good 6 hours ago, Kurt thought. Blaine hadn’t been awake that long ever since Kurt had brought him home three days ago, mostly because he had so much sleep to catch up on. Kurt wondered how long Blaine had been sitting by the door, waiting for him.

“Do you maybe want to take a nap? We’ll have to take care of your back today, but it can wait a little longer. You look tired.” Blaine assessed Kurt’s expression for a moment, before nodding carefully. 

“Come on then.” He took Blaine’s now empty plate from the table and placed it in the sink next to his own.

“Can I keep these?” Blaine asked, holding the post-it’s out for Kurt to take away if he wanted.

“Of course, you can.” Kurt said, gently rubbing Blaine’s shoulder as he guided Blaine to his room.

Blaine all but collapsed onto the bed, eyes already drooping from exhaustion, the post-it’s still clutched in his hands. He was fast asleep by the time Kurt pulled the blanket up to his neck.


	21. Author's note

Hey guys, I'm sorry for not updating for so long. Real life has been ridiculous. I don't want to go into detail, I just want to let you know that this hasn't been abandoned. Thank you for your time!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys!
> 
> I don’t know how to tell you just how sorry I am for making you wait this long. This chapter isn’t as long as I hoped my first chapter back would be, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. 
> 
> I’d like to thank my lovely beta quitedapperindeed (on tumblr) for putting up with me and helping me so much. You are the best! 
> 
> Thank you all for leaving so many encouraging comments for me, I read them all and I love you so much! Enjoy!

When Carole came home from work she found Kurt curled up on the couch, a cup of tea cradled to his chest, staring at the wall.

“Are you okay, dear?” She asked, startling Kurt out of his trance.

“Fine, I’m fine.” He checked his lap for spilled tea. “How was work?”

“Oh, work was fine.” Kurt watched absentmindedly as Carole shed her winter clothing. “I kept thinking about Blaine all day though, how is he doing? “

“He’s asleep again… I found him by the door when I got home.” Kurt put the cup he’d been holding on the coffee table.

“What do you mean, ‘by the door’?” Carole asked, taking a seat on the couch and turning to face him.

“He was sitting by the door waiting for me. I…” Kurt paused, hugging a decorative pillow to his chest. “I don’t know if I can do this.” He wanted to say more, but he just didn’t know where to start.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Carole asked. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Kurt looked up to see her face. Carole was looking at him like a mom, and Kurt couldn’t help but love her for it.

“He just has all the wrong ideas and I’m not sure if I can help him.” He started. “I want to, I want to help so badly, but all I do seems to be wrong and he’s constantly on edge, like he’s just waiting for me to beat the crap out of him and I don’t know how to deal with it. I just…” a distressed noise escaped his throat “I just don’t know what to do.” He took a deep, shaky breath.

“Oh honey, you know you can always come to me and your dad for help right? I know your dad talked to you about leaving Blaine in your care, but he didn’t mean that you’re on your own. We’re always here to help, he just meant we didn’t want to overload Blaine with authority figures, you know?”

Carole pulled him closer and Kurt let himself settle against her, holding on to her waist.

Kurt took a few deep breaths, letting Carole’s presence calm him. “I just don’t want to scare him anymore.”

“Well,” Carole began softly, stroking his hair, “I wasn’t around the last time your dad bought a slave, I can just give you educated guesses at the moment, but it seems like Blaine is used to a lot of rules, right?”

Kurt nodded. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Well then maybe, just for the time being, it might help put him at ease if he got new rules from you, since rules are familiar, right?”

He considered that for a moment. “It’s worth a try, I guess, but what do I tell him?”

“Has Burt talked to you about the exam yet?” Carole asked.

“No, but I remember when Cooper had to take it.”

“I’ll go get some of the practice books from the garage tomorrow afternoon, so maybe you could give him a daily workload once he feels better, I’m sure that’s a rule that could make him feel better, you know, things like that?”

“That sounds good.” Kurt whipped his cheeks on the back of his palm, noticing his hands came back moist, he never realized he was crying. “I’ll try that, and I’ll call home at lunch, so he knows he can eat.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’m so proud of you, honey.” He felt Carole kiss the top of his head and it made him smile and hold onto her more tightly.

“Thank you.” He sighed, burying his face in her shoulder again.

Kurt allowed himself to relax with his step-mother for a little while until his eyes caught the digital clock on the TV caught his eye. “We should make dinner.” He sighed, extracting himself from the comforting embrace.

 

Dinner was done by the time Finn and Burt came home. While his parents and brother had spaghetti, Kurt decided to serve himself the same as he did Blaine, meaning another round of soup and toast. Blaine tiptoed out of his room just as Kurt was about to go fetch him, seemingly drawn out by the smell of food.

“Oh good, you’re up.” Kurt greeted him with a careful smile and gestured for Blaine to follow him into the kitchen. “Dinner is ready, come join us.”

The dinner itself was a lot more pleasant than the one on the previous day had been. Burt and Finn were chatting enthusiastically, while Kurt and Blaine ate in almost content silence. The nap seemed to have calmed Blaine’s nerves and Kurt was thankful for it. Blaine ate slowly as he had been instructed, but with a lot more enthusiasm than Kurt had seen him do before.

“Do you want some more?” Kurt asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt the conversation flowing around them. Blaine seemed to honestly contemplate the offer, but shook his head no. “Thank you, but I don’t think I can, Sir.”

Kurt nodded, finishing the last bite of his own toast. “There’s always more later, if you want.” He contemplated what to do next when it occurred to him that Blaine’s bandages still needed changing. He spoke up when Burt and Finn cleared away the dishes, mostly to distract Blaine from trying to do it for them.

“Do you think you can handle a shower?” He asked. “If not we can draw another bath..”

“A shower is fine, Sir.” Blaine assured him.

Blaine followed Kurt into the bathroom where Kurt quickly explained the two knobs that regulated the temperature and water pressure and left Blaine with a towel and the instruction to get a new set of pajamas to change into for after they had redressed his wounds.

Blaine did as he was told, while Kurt went to gather more bandages from the medicine cabinet for later. When he went to place them next to the bathroom sink he stopped short in the door. Blaine had taken his shirt off and was trying to reach the bandages on his back to take them off. His face scrunched up in pain from the contortion, but that was only a small part of what made Kurt halt abruptly in the door. With the way Blaine was stretching Kurt could see the bones of his rib cage and hips protruding to an extent he hadn’t been aware they could. It was shocking in a way that made Kurt want to cry. He had known, logically, how skinny Blaine was. He had seen his own clothes become oversized looking on Blaine, but in the harsh artificial lighting of the bathroom and in a pose like this reality hit him hard. If Santana hadn’t dragged him to that stupid market, Blaine would not be here. He wouldn’t be anywhere, he would be dead, either from an injection, or hypothermia, or starvation and lying under a bridge near Marysville.

“Let me help you.” Kurt stressed, hurrying over to Blaine who lowered his arms gratefully and turned his back to Kurt for better access. One of the cuts on Blaine’s shoulder had torn open a little because of the strain, but otherwise his back seemed to look better for all Kurt could tell. “They’re looking better.” He commented as he removed the last bandage. “Shower as warm as you like, okay? And call me when you’re decent.” Kurt added before heading out the door.

Once outside, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He heard the shower turn on behind the closed door and wondered if he could really leave Blaine alone. Kurt hadn’t seen Blaine stand for longer than a minute at a time and he got tired very quickly. What if he fell? What if…

“Dude, you okay? You look like you’re gonna have an anarhythm.” Kurt was startled out of worrying.

“You mean an aneurysm, Finn.” He corrected him gently, trying not to sound amused.

“Yeah, that. You okay?” Finn repeated his initial question.

Kurt sighed. “I don’t know, I think so. Just worried, I guess.” Finn gave the bathroom door an understanding glance before patting Kurt’s shoulder.

“He’ll be fine. You always make people better, like Burt, or that one time Rachel had that nasty cold. You’re a totally awesome nurse. You know, a guy nurse. You’re like the smartest guy I know, you’ll make him better in no time.”

Kurt couldn’t help but laugh a little at Finn’s rambling. “Thanks, Finn.”

“Oh and Burt sent me to tell you that he brought ‘the books’ back from the garage. I don’t know what books he means though, he said you knew.” Finn suddenly remembered. “I’m supposed to get them from the car.”

With that Finn hurried outside without his shoes or jacket to retrieve a big, heavy box from the trunk of his father’s car while Kurt watched him, confused as to how Finn’s feet didn’t instantly turn into icicles.

“Where do you want me to put them?” He asked, kicking the front door shut behind him with his foot a moment later.

“Erm… my room, please.”

“You got it.” Finn said, heaving the box up the stairs, Kurt trailing behind him.

He thanked Finn after he put the box down on Kurt’s bedroom floor, opening the lid. It was halfway filled with various school books on different topics, all of which would be subjects on the test. The test… Kurt wasn’t quite sure if Blaine was ready for that conversation quite yet, maybe it would be best to wait until Blaine had gotten a little more acclimated.

The sound of the shower downstairs cut out and Kurt took it as his cue to head down again to be there when Blaine was ready.

 

“How badly do they hurt?” Kurt asked, carefully applying ointment to one of the deeper cuts, trying to touch the torn skin as little as possible.

Blaine was sitting on a chair in front of him, hugging the backrest to his chest for support while Kurt was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. The ointment and bandages lined up on the edge next to him.

“Not very, Kurt.” Blaine assured him, not even flinching a little bit when Kurt pressed the bandage down around the cut.

When he saw Kurt frown in disbelief in the mirror he quietly added. “This really isn’t so bad. I’ve had a lot worse, Kurt.”

Kurt pressed his lips into a small line to keep himself from wincing at the thought. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine looked bewildered for a moment, before schooling his features into a curious but neutral expression when he remembered that Kurt could see him in the mirror as well. “May I ask why, Kurt?” He asked carefully.

“I’m sorry someone hurt you so much that this…” He let his eyes linger on Blaine’s torn up back “… doesn’t even compare.” Kurt swallowed heavily and went back to applying ointment to the cuts, one at a time. He wasn’t satisfied with his own answer. Kurt felt as though he should say more, offer comfort and promise safety, but all his usual skill for heartfelt speeches seemed to have left him.

“I have a book for you… well, loads of books, but we’re starting with one. I’ll show it to you later. I thought it would be nice if you had something to do while we’re all gone. Those books are really important. I’d like it if you could work through maybe a chapter a day during the week. They’re small chapters and you can still read other books, if you want to. I promise there won’t be any punishment if you don’t manage a whole chapter, and if you ever get stuck you can ask for help. I’d just really like it if we could make this a thing.”

“Of course, Kurt.” Blaine sounded anxious, even though he obviously tried very hard to sound neutral and obedient.

“This isn’t a test, I swear. I’m not trying to set you up or trick you into failing. They’re just important preparations for …life”, he decided to explain what exactly Blaine was studying for another time “since you can’t go to school or anything. You’ll see, they start from scratch, you’ll be able to follow them. You don’t have to start right away; I know you’re still really tired.” Kurt trailed off. Maybe he shouldn’t have sprung this on Blaine like he did? He could feel himself putting pressure on Blaine that he hadn’t meant to put there. He was doing this to put Blaine at ease. “I’ll show you in a few minutes. Don’t worry for now.”

“Yes, Kurt.” Blaine had immediately picked up on Kurt’s uncertainty and was trying hard to gauge what was in store for him. Kurt finished treating the cuts on Blaine’s back.

“I’ll just check your knees, you can put your shirt on.” He sat down on the floor in front of Blaine’s chair. “Can I roll these up?” Kurt asked, pointing at the legs of Blaine’s pants. Blaine nodded, his fingers twitching restlessly as though he wanted to take the task off Kurt’s hand.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering…” Kurt mused as he gently prodded the skin around Blaine’s swollen knee “..and I’m not sure how to ask, but those men, at the market, how… why…” Kurt paused to sort out his thought process. “Why would they …” He trailed off again, but Blaine knew how to end his sentence.

“Kill me and not sell me into hard labor, Kurt?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah.” Kurt confirmed quietly, looking up at Blaine carefully.

“Traders don’t buy diseased slaves.” Blaine began, avoiding Kurt’s gaze. “I was…okay when my last owner sold me, but one of the traders … took a liking to me. We get screened every time we are bought. Three weeks ago someone was going to buy me… that’s when they found out.” Blaine’s hands were clutching the back of the chair tightly, his eyes still averted. “They screened all the traders and found out what he did. It got him in a lot of trouble, I think.”

Blaine looked up as if to gauge Kurt’s reaction. Kurt ran a hand over the still fabric covered leg in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

“He was so mad.” Blaine continued. “They kept… forgetting to feed me after that and I wasn’t allowed to clean myself with the other slaves. He didn’t want me to be sold. He wasn’t allowed near us anymore, but his friends… if you hadn’t …” He lowered his gaze again. “There’s something I’ve been wondering as well, Kurt, if I may?”

“What’s that?” Kurt asked softly.

“If they weren’t going to… if he hadn’t been about to… would you have taken me with you? If I had been standing with the others?”

Kurt’s hand stilled. His breath hitched at the thought, because no, he wouldn’t have. If Blaine hadn’t been about to be murdered he wouldn’t have even glanced at him twice, just like he hadn’t looked at the other miserable men and women he had passed.

Blaine understood his silence and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” Kurt whispered, seeking Blaine’s gaze to make him understand.

“No, no, don’t be.” Blaine said earnestly. Then his face broke into an incredulous smile. “I guess I’m lucky then.” He added, smiling wistfully, his smile not faltering when he caught Kurt’s mystified expression.

“If he hadn’t made me sick I would have been in line with all the others and you’d have walked right by me. If it hadn’t been for him you wouldn’t have seen me. I got lucky!”

“Lucky.” Kurt repeated dumbfounded. “You really think so?” Hope bubbled up in Kurt’s stomach that maybe he wasn’t scaring Blaine as much as he thought he was… at least not anymore.

“I really do.” Blaine confirmed, smile brightening when he saw a happy grin spread across Kurt’s face.

Kurt finished inspecting the progress of Blaine’s knees, still smiling to himself. “I think the swelling has gone down, that’s great!” He commented, smoothing out the legs of Blaine’s sweatpants. “Come on, I’ll show you the first book.” Kurt led the way to his room with Blaine following right behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I don’t want to make estimates for when the next chapter will be posted, but it won’t take another year! Thank you for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

Important Author’s note: Dear readers, as you can tell from my lack of updates I have been very much consumed by real life obligations. I realized a few weeks ago, that I would not be able to finish this story by myself, at least not anytime soon. Thankfully, the lovely anxioussquirrel (on tumblr and fanfiction.net) contacted me a few months ago and offered to help me out if I wanted her to. She is a very talented writer and I have been aware of her since I joined the glee fandom. With my story outline she has written this lovely chapter, so please, after you read this, go spam her inbox with love and praise, she put a lot of work into this. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I know I did.

Additional note: Two weeks have passed in the timeline of the story since the last chapter.

* * *

CHAPTER 14

“… and then of course Rachel had to tell Miss Holiday – that’s the substitute teacher we’ve had for History this week – about the test we were supposed to have tomorrow. So I have her to thank for the fact that I’ll be studying tonight instead of having a nice relaxed evening,” Kurt said between mouthfuls of his salad. There was a hum of acknowledgement in the phone pressed to his ear, and a quiet clink of cutlery against a plate indicating that the person at the other end of the line was eating, too. Kurt smiled. “But don’t worry, Blaine, I will still have time to bake cookies with you like I promised.”

“Thank you, Kurt!” Even Blaine’s carefully controlled tone couldn’t hide his excitement. He’d only helped Kurt with baking twice so far, some muffins and banana bread, but it looked like he really enjoyed it.

Kurt grinned around the last forkful. Then his eyes fell on the clock over the door and he sighed.

“Okay, my lunch break is almost over, I have to go. You just finish eating and then do whatever you feel like doing, okay? I’ll be back after four.”

“Yes, Kurt. Thank you.”

Kurt disconnected and gathered the containers from his lunch to throw them in the trash on his way out of the astronomy classroom where he was hiding.

Almost two weeks had passed since that first day Blaine stayed home alone when Kurt went to school. Things had mostly been peaceful since then. Blaine could finally eat what everyone else did and while he was still much too thin, he no longer looked like the exhausted shadow of a boy Kurt had brought home that November afternoon. His cuts and bruises were mostly healed now, and even the swelling in his knees had gone down almost completely. He was doing much better overall, but Kurt still preferred to call home during his lunch breaks to make sure Blaine was okay. They usually ended up eating together on the phone.

Kurt slipped into the cafeteria five minutes before the bell. Most of the Glee club had already finished eating and were now sitting around the table – Finn and Puck gesticulating wildly as they discussed some football strategy, Rachel with her nose buried in a book, with Quinn in her usual spot at her feet. Tina was whispering urgently to Mercedes, her face pale and grim as it often was lately. Santana was still absent, probably lost on the phone with Brittany in some quiet corner. The only times she and Kurt ate lunch with the rest of the Glee club in the last weeks had been those few days when Santana brought Brittany over to Kurt’s house for the day so that the two slaves could keep each other company while their owners were at school.

Not that anyone noticed, really. There was always more than enough drama surrounding the members of their tiny club. People skipping lunch weren’t high on the scale.

The bell announced the end of the lunch break and their whole group gathered their things to move to their respective classrooms. Only three more classes and Glee, and then Kurt would be able to go home. The thought made him smile.

“So, you and Santana?” A familiar voice sounded right behind him. He turned, startled, and found himself confronted with a no-nonsense, curious face of Mercedes.

“What?”

“Is there a little something-something there?” Mercedes wiggled her eyebrows.

Kurt’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? You know I’m gay.”

“Well, you two keep disappearing at the same times and you both come back all smiley and happy. And she’s not half as bitchy with you now as she used to be.” Mercedes put her hand on Kurt’s arm, smiling when he shook his head fervently. “Hey, it’s okay, boo. I know I used to have a crush on you, but I’m not jealous, don’t worry.” She winked and turned away to walk to her next class.

“There’s nothing going on between Santana and me!” Kurt yelled to her retreating back when he finally regained his voice. In the almost emptying hallway it carried like a bell. Several heads turned curiously.

Oh great. Like he didn’t have enough to deal with.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day dragged unmercifully, and Kurt sighed with relief when he finally pulled into the driveway in front of his house. He knew what he would find when he went inside: a spotless kitchen with the lunch dishes washed and put away, a cup of hot tea waiting for him on the table and–

“Good afternoon, Kurt!”

His favorite part – Blaine in the hallway, waiting to greet him by the door.

Blaine wasn’t kneeling, just standing in the hallway, and Kurt knew he only came here when he heard the car, but he did this every day without a fault. They had talked about it, he told Blaine time and again that he didn’t expect him to run to the door to meet him every time he came home, or to take his coat to hang it up, but Blaine so clearly enjoyed this part of his day that Kurt couldn’t deny him the pleasure. Especially when he secretly adored it, too.

“Thank you,” he said when Blaine took his scarf and draped it neatly over the hanger. “How was your day?”

“Very good, thank you,” Blaine replied with a smile. “I listened to some music today like you told me I could, and I enjoyed it very much. But–” he hesitated and Kurt frowned, immediately worried.

“What? What happened?”

Blaine looked unsure, his eyes set down and head bowed in an automatic pose of slave submission. “I noticed some dust on your shelves when I was choosing the music to play, and I cleaned it.” When Kurt didn’t say anything, confused, Blaine added quietly. “I know you didn’t tell me to clean your shelves, I apologize.”

_Oh._

“You thought I’d be upset with you because you cleaned my stuff?” Kurt asked incredulously.

Blaine glanced up at him. “Some masters don’t like their things touched without permission.”

_I’m not a master_ , Kurt wanted to say, _I just want to help you_. But he knew by now that it wasn’t what Blaine needed to hear.

“Well, you are allowed to touch all of my things,” he said instead. “That are out in the open,” he added after a beat. There were definitely some notebooks and things deep in his drawers that he didn’t want Blaine to see. Or anyone, really. “And thank you for cleaning my shelves. But you don’t have to do it, you know. I can clean my room myself.”

“I like doing things for you.” Blaine sounded shy, his eyes big and earnest as he looked up at Kurt, and something fluttered in Kurt’s chest, warm and affectionate.

“How about those cookies now?” he asked before he could say something that would make Blaine uncomfortable. “I’ll just go change first. Could you prepare the ingredients? The recipe is on the fridge.”

Blaine nodded eagerly and nearly skipped to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

“Did you have time to work with your book today?” Kurt asked as he sifted the flour ten minutes later. Beside him, Blaine was carefully cracking eggs into a small bowl.

“I did, yes. I work with it every day like you told me to.”

“So what are you on right now?” Kurt wasn’t regularly checking his progress, leaving Blaine to work by himself for now. That first book was mostly simple reading exercises and basic math, and Blaine had looked through it and declared he remembered doing similar things with his brother back when he was a child.

“Um, math word problems.”

Something in his tone caught Kurt’s attention and he stopped what he was doing to look at Blaine. “Are you having trouble with them?”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, Kurt. I… I was unable to finish the whole chapter today but I will do better tomorrow, I promise. I will work all day and I will finish this chapter and the next one like I’m supposed to.”

Kurt gently laid his hand on Blaine’s arm to stop him from spiraling further into panic. “Hey, it’s okay! You don’t have to do the whole chapter if it’s too much, and no one is going to be angry with you if you don’t understand something. Just tell me if you have a problem with anything and I will help you, okay?”

Blaine nodded, his voice still a little tremulous. “Yes, Kurt. Thank you, Kurt.”

“We’ll look into it after dinner, alright? Now, could you chop some walnuts? I’m in the mood for something more interesting than just chocolate chips today.”

 

* * *

 

The cookies turned out delicious – just the right combination of crunchy and gooey. It was the first time Blaine had eaten homemade cookies, and the blissful expression on his face made Kurt smile fondly. He was already thinking what delights to introduce Blaine to next.

It was his turn to clean after dinner. Blaine helped him gather the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, but there were still a few pots left to wash by hand.

“Blaine, how about you get your book and I will come help you as soon as I’m done?” he asked as he turned on the water. Blaine nodded and left the kitchen.

“Help him with what?” Finn was still standing by the cookie jar.

“Finn, for god’s sake, take a plate if you’re still eating. There are crumbs everywhere.” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled and put a hand under the cookie he was munching on. “So what does Blaine need help with?”

“Math,” Kurt said absentmindedly, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on a pan.

“Oh. Ugh. I hate math.” Finn grabbed two more cookies and left the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

The door to Blaine’s room was wide open when Kurt approached it a few minutes later, and Blaine was sitting on his bed. But he wasn’t alone.

“Oh wow, and you’re supposed to read and understand three pages of explanations just to learn how to solve simple word problems? Man, this book totally sucks.” Finn was sitting cross-legged next to Blaine, the book open on the bed between them. “Just ignore these, all you need to do is use your imagination. I mean, you can add, subtract and all that, right?”

Blaine nodded and Finn beamed at him.

“So the rest is easy. Like in this one: imagine that man standing there with his forty apples, and all those kids waiting in line to get a few. And then just–“

The door squeaked as Kurt leaned against the frame and Blaine looked up, startled out of his focus.

“Kurt!” He looked like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

Kurt smiled. “I see that you’re in good hands.” Finn grinned proudly. “Is it okay if you leave you two to it then? I have a history test to study for.”

Both boys nodded. Kurt could hear Finn resuming his explanation before he even reached the stairs.

When he came down to say goodnight a few hours later, Blaine was still sitting on his bed with the book in his lap, alone now. Kurt knocked on the open door.

“Hey, how are the word problems?”

“Oh, I just finished the chapter!” Blaine beamed at him. “Finn explained it all to me and it’s really easy now.”

“I’m proud of you,” Kurt said and the smile it put on Blaine’s face melted his heart a little. “And I’m glad you’re getting on so well with Finn. I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up too long, Blaine. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Kurt.”

Kurt couldn’t help the thought that his name sounded different on Blaine’s tongue this time. Not like a title – more like something soft and pretty, spoken with reverence.

 

* * *

 

It was the last Friday before Christmas and Kurt had plans. He went Christmas shopping with the girls after school – hours spent at the mall looking for the perfect gifts, and then coffee, because really, shopping should be considered a sport for how exhausting it was.

When he finally got home, laden with bags and packages, his family was just sitting down to dinner. Kurt slipped into his seat with a sigh and immediately started discussing Christmas menu and decoration ideas with Carole. He was on a roll today, buzzing with excitement. Christmas had always been his favorite holiday, and ever since Carole and Finn moved in, it regained the festive, family feel that he had missed for years.

Finn and Blaine cleaned up the dishes after dinner while Kurt sat with Carole, making shopping lists and a schedule for food preparation next week. They had the slaves from the garage to take care of, too, so cooking and baking would have to commence early. He was still debating baking the first batch of Christmas cookies tonight when Blaine approached him.

“Hey,” Kurt smiled absentmindedly. “Did you need something?”

Blaine hesitated, then nodded stiffly. “Yes, Kurt. May I go to sleep early tonight?”

Kurt’s eyebrows rose. “Of course you can, you don’t even have to ask if you are tired. Go rest. And I will make the gingerbread cookies in the morning,” he decided. “Would you like to help me?”

“Of course, Kurt.” Blaine smiled weakly.

Kurt watched him as he walked out of the kitchen, a little worried. Blaine had regained a lot of his strength in the last three weeks, but he clearly wasn’t fully restored yet.

“He’s been quiet all afternoon,” Carole said. “I think he missed you.”

Kurt felt a pang of guilt. Yesterday, he’d forgotten to tell Blaine that he would be coming home late, and the boy slept in this morning, so Kurt just left him a note to let him know. And then he ignored him all through dinner when he finally came home. No wonder Blaine felt a little left out.

Of course, Kurt knew he technically didn’t owe Blaine his attention, but he couldn’t help but feel responsible – not just for the slave’s physical well-being, but emotional, too. He just wanted Blaine to feel happy and safe here. He didn’t save his life only to make him miserable.

Oh well, there was nothing he could do now. He would make it up to Blaine tomorrow. It was the weekend and Kurt had a lot of fun plans around the house that he could involve Blaine in. 

 

* * *

 

Saturday morning rose bright and beautiful, with fresh snow falling slowly outside and the promise of Christmas in the air. Kurt woke up first, in a great mood, so he descended to the kitchen to make breakfast. The smell of pancakes and fresh coffee soon brought everyone to the table. Everyone – except for Blaine.

Kurt frowned at the clock. It was nine already.

“Finn, could you go wake up Blaine? Tell him breakfast is ready.”

It only took a minute for Finn to return – alone and looking concerned.

“I tried, but he wouldn’t wake up. I think he’s sick, he looks all sweaty and he’s breathing funny.”

Kurt was out of the kitchen before Finn even finished speaking.

The door to Blaine’s room was half open. The boy was curled under the covers, only his face sticking out. His dark curls were matted with sweat and his cheeks flushed.

Kurt sat down at the edge of the bed and gently put his hand on the slave’s forehead. His eyes widened. Blaine was burning up, his skin hot and sticky with sweat. Up close, his breathing sounded fast and shallow, terrifyingly labored. Kurt stroked his cheek.

“Blaine. Blaine, honey, wake up,” he said softly. “Please wake up.”

For a few seconds, nothing happened. And then Blaine sat up on the bed with a gasp that rattled nastily in his chest. He froze for a moment, holding his breath with all of his muscles tensed, before letting out a controlled exhale that seemed to catch in his throat. His eyes were fever-bright and scared, his head bowed in submission.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he rasped. “I’m sorry, I’m up now. I’m ready to work. Please don’t hurt me, Master, please, I’m sorry, it will never happen again.” His voice was breaking as he scrambled, trying to get up, and Kurt’s throat clenched at how terrified he sounded. He swallowed the threatening tears and held Blaine’s shoulders firmly, careful not to grip too hard.

“Blaine, no, it’s okay. It’s okay. No one’s gonna hurt you. Please don’t try to get up. You’re sick. You need to stay in bed.”

Blaine whimpered, still looking dazed. “I’m fine. I can work. I swear, Master. Please don’t punish me.”

“ _Blaine._ ” Kurt didn’t know what to do. He took a steadying breath. “Blaine, look at me,” he said firmly. The boy looked at his face for the first time since he woke up and Kurt spoke softly, soothingly. “You’re safe. No one is going to punish you, I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re sick. We need to call a doctor or–“

He looked around, helpless.

“Let me try first.” Carole was already in the doorway, a digital thermometer in her hand.

Kurt got up from the bed to make room for her, kneeling on the floor by the bed instead. Blaine seemed calmer now. He was still breathing heavily, but his eyes were focused on Kurt’s face with a relieved intensity. He jumped, startled, when Carole touched his hand.

“Okay, sweetie, open your mouth. I need to check your temperature – I’m just going to put the thermometer under your tongue, okay? It doesn’t hurt.”

Blaine looked anxious but nodded obediently. He closed his mouth around the thermometer when Carole prompted him to. The device beeped thirty seconds later. Kurt didn’t see the display, but the frown on Carole’s face told him it wasn’t good. She spoke softly, with a maternal air.

“You did great, Blaine. Now, can you tell me where you’re hurting?”

Blaine opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat and seemed to choke on it. Carole squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, you can just show me.”

Slowly, Blaine raised his free hand to touch his throat, sliding it down to his chest, then up to his forehead. Carole nodded.

“Do you feel like you need to cough?”

Blaine nodded quickly, and Carole looked like she was going to cry for a moment. “Oh, honey. It’s okay. You can. You never have to control it here. Just let it out. No one is going to punish you for being sick, I promise.”

Blaine took a deeper breath and immediately exploded in a violent coughing fit. Once it started, it seemed like it would never stop.

Kurt looked at Carole, confused. He hadn’t heard a single cough from Blaine’s room since – well, probably ever. Carole sighed.

“Some masters don’t like to hear their slaves at all,” she explained. “They don’t want their peace disturbed, and they punish the slaves who aren’t perfectly silent, even when they are sick. It’s cruel and unnatural, but the poor slaves have no choice but to learn to fight their bodies’ most basic reactions. Of course, holding back like this makes the illness last longer, and if often gets more serious as a result, but it’s not like those owners care.” She looked back at Blaine. “I’m guessing Blaine had such a sick bastard as a master at some point.”

Not for the first time, anger rose in Kurt’s throat like a tide at the thought of someone treating this sweet, gentle boy like that. He bit his lip to stop himself from swearing or ranting. This was not the right time.

It took long minutes before Blaine managed to catch his breath.

“Thank you, Madam,” he whispered, when he was able to speak.

Carole smiled. “Alright now, lay down and rest. Kurt and I will go to the kitchen and bring you something to eat and some medication, okay?”

After Blaine’s earlier reaction, Kurt expected protests, but it looked like the coughing left the boy exhausted. He just nodded and slid back down against the pillows. Kurt quietly left the room after Carole.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked as soon as they were out of the room. “Should we call for Dr Holland?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary at the moment.”

“But–” Kurt said incredulously. “He sounds so sick!”

“It’s probably just a cold,” Carole said calmly. “Believe me, if you or Finn had the same symptoms, I wouldn’t call for a doctor either. I’d give you cold medicine and a lot of hot tea, make sure you are hydrated and resting. So that’s what we’ll do for Blaine, too. If he gets any worse, we will ask Dr Holland to check on him, but I think it won’t be necessary. He’s been under such a strain for so long, the poor kid, it’s only natural that his body is decompressing now. It means he’s feeling safe here, he’s finally letting his guard down. I think we can expect some more sicknesses in the coming months as his immune system resets from the survival mode.”

Kurt sighed. “You really think he feels safe here?”

“I really do. You take excellent care of him.” Carole smiled. “Now come on, let’s make some lemon tea. You should put honey on his pancakes, too. It’s a natural antibiotic. Once he eats, we’ll give him some meds to get his fever down. He’ll be fine, Kurt. Don’t worry.”

Kurt couldn’t help but worry though. Blaine only ate a little breakfast and swallowed the pills, looking surprised, but not questioning. His cheeks were still glowing from the fever, but he seemed more lucid now and no longer terrified. He even asked to be allowed to use the bathroom. Kurt helped him get there because it turned out he was wobbly on his legs, and then used the time to quickly change the sweaty sheets on Blaine’s bed. He prepared fresh pajamas for him, too, and turned away discreetly as the boy changed. Finally Blaine was back in bed, his eyes drooping, and Kurt left him to rest, resisting the sudden urge to smooth back his curls. Really, his caregiver instincts were getting out of control.

Saturday was filled with Christmas preparations, but Kurt was distracted, one ear always on Blaine’s room. He’d told the boy to call for him if he needed anything, but apart from the frequent coughing, it was silent there. Whenever Kurt peeked in, Blaine was either asleep or lying awake, lost in thought. Kurt brought him tea and food a few times, and some more medication when Carole declared it was time for the next dose, but they didn’t talk beyond Blaine’s quiet “yes”, “no” or “thank you, Kurt.”

Carole said it was normal and to just give Blaine time. It was probably the first time in years – maybe the first time he remembered – when someone cared for him when he was sick.

Kurt didn’t sleep well that night, still worried about the boy downstairs, so it was no wonder really that the first faint whimper made him shoot up in bed, awake and alert.

For a moment it was quiet, but then the sound returned, longer and raw. Kurt was up in a heartbeat, running quietly down the stairs towards its source. Everyone else seemed sound asleep still.

Moonlight was streaming into Blaine’s room, bright enough to show the boy lying on his side with his wrists crossed as if they were still bound. He looked like he was having a nightmare, his face screwed in fear, but he wasn’t trashing in the sheets. In fact, he looked like he was frozen, paralyzed, his muscles tense and perfectly controlled, his breathing ragged. He whimpered again just as Kurt entered the room, but then his voice rose in panic.

“Please, no, I’ll be good.” The coughing returned as soon as he spoke, but Blaine tamped it down, fighting to control every breath. It made his next words wheeze out, broken and raw with panic. “Not the knife, please Master, _please–_ “

Kurt’s blood ran cold. It took three quick strides to get to the bed and then he was dropping to his knees, touching Blaine’s wrist and urgently whispering his name to call him back from whatever terror he was reliving.

Blaine’s eyes shot open, wide and scared. The relief that washed upon his face when he saw Kurt was immediate.

“ _Kurt_ ,” he whispered, a rushed exhale, followed by another bout of coughing quickly muffled in the pillow. Kurt squeezed his hand. It was warmer than normal, but not really hot, as was his forehead. Blaine rolled to his back, panting softly, wrists untangling from their bound position.

“Bad dream?” Kurt asked carefully.

Blaine nodded. In the moonlight, Kurt saw a single tear flow from the corner of his eye, shining silvery as it slid down his cheek to the pillow. He wanted to reach out and brush it dry. He wanted to comfort Blaine, make him feel safe, but he had no idea how.

“Are you okay now? Do you need anything?” he whispered instead.

Blaine turned his head to look at him. He was quiet for a while, and then said, very softly. “I have everything I need. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Sunday passed on more holiday preparations. Blaine stayed in bed, obediently taking his medication and trying to eat, even though he clearly didn’t have an appetite. He was still coughing terribly and his fever was rising back between doses of medicine, but he didn’t seem to be getting worse. He even tried to get up and “be useful” in the afternoon, when his temperature was down, but he gave up when Kurt ordered him back to bed. At least he was strong enough to go the bathroom by himself now, so that was probably a good sign, Kurt reasoned, though it didn’t make him stop worrying entirely.

Blaine slept peacefully that night and looked better in the morning, but it was with a heavy heart that Kurt left for school. He dropped by during his lunch break to check on Blaine – only to find him asleep – and then blew off Glee that afternoon, eager to return home. There were only two more days of school, anyway, and it wasn’t as if they had a competition or a performance to prepare for.

Blaine was still in bed when Kurt came home, under strict orders not to leave it today except for bathroom runs and getting food or tea, but he was clearly tired of the bed rest. With nothing to do and no longer sleeping through the day, it must have been really boring to be alone for so many hours. Kurt had an idea.

“Would you like me to read to you?”

Blaine’s eyes sparkled like a child’s. “Oh, yes, please!”

The big book of fairytales that Kurt cherished when he was little seemed like a good choice, and soon he was sitting on the chair by Blaine’s bed, reading to him like his own parents did whenever Kurt was sick in bed as a child. Blaine listened, enchanted.

 

* * *

 

It turned out Carole was right. On Tuesday Blaine seemed well on his way to recovery. He was still coughing and a little weak, but he stayed awake through most of the day and even worked some with his book while Kurt was at school. In the afternoon Kurt sat him in front of the TV, swaddled in a blanket, and put on _Aladdin_ for him while he busied himself making dinner. He joined Blaine on the couch halfway through the movie and wasn’t sure what was a bigger pleasure – watching one of his favorite Disney movies again or seeing Blaine’s face as he discovered it for the first time.

In the evening, the Hummel-Hudson’s were invited for a little get together at the garage, but Kurt decided to stay home to keep Blaine company.

“Are you sure?” his dad asked as Kurt went to lock the door behind them. “Cooper is going to be there with Sarah, you haven’t seen him in ages. He said they have some good news.”

“No, I’m good. Blaine was by himself all day and he’s still not feeling too well, I don’t want to leave him alone again. Give Cooper a hug from me.”

Kurt’s dad gave him a long, thoughtful look, but left it at that.

When the sound of the car died down in the street, Kurt returned to the living room where Blaine was still being a blanket burrito.

“How about hot chocolate and the next part of the movie?”

 

* * *

 

The phone rang just as he was putting the steaming cups on the table and Kurt smiled when he saw the caller ID, remembering the blond boy from the doctor’s waiting room.

“Hello, Jeff,” he said as he answered the phone. Blaine looked at him curiously.

“Hi Kurt! How are you? And how’s Blaine?” Jeff sounded polite and a little cautious.

“Good, we’re fine. How are you two?” It felt a little awkward to talk with this boy he only really saw once, but Jeff seemed nice and Kurt remembered Blaine’s joy at meeting his slave, Nick, whom he knew from their time together with one of his previous owners.

“We’re great. So I’ve been thinking – do you think it would be possible for us to meet so that our slaves could spend some time together? Nick has been dying to see Blaine again.”

Kurt smiled. “I think it would be nice.” He looked at the boy sitting by his side. “Blaine, would you like to meet up with Nick sometime soon?”

Blaine beamed and nodded fervently. “Yes, please!”

Kurt laughed at the clear enthusiasm in Blaine’s voice. “Okay, so it’s settled. Blaine has had a little cold and he’s still recovering, but he should be completely fine in a few days. How about you guys visit us here after Christmas?”

“Great.” Jeff sounded chipper. “Send me your address and the date and we’ll be there. Merry Christmas, Kurt!”

“Merry Christmas!”

He disconnected and was just about to put the phone away on the coffee table and grab a remote when Blaine touched his hand. His eyes were wide and earnest.

“Kurt… thank you.”

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, dear readers! I'm glad you've taken well to the author switch, I'm incredibly happy that the lovely and talented anxioussquirrel is doing this. Make sure to drop her a line if you like this chapter. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 15

The whole house smelled like sugar and spice. Christmas music was flowing from the radio. Fairy lights in the hall twinkled merrily. Kurt pulled the last batch of colorful swirl cookies out of the oven and let out a happy sigh.

“Okay, we’re done. Now all that’s left is to enjoy our Christmas Eve. Would you like a cookie?”

Blaine shook his head, his cheeks pink from the heat. “No, thank you. I’m still full from dinner. Do you need me to help you with anything else tonight?”

Kurt scooped a small pile of cookies onto a plate. “If you could just take these to the living room, I’ll be there in a moment. We’ve definitely earned the rest of the night off.”

Blaine carefully picked up the plate and walked out of the kitchen.

Kurt followed him a few minutes later, five cups of hot chocolate steaming on the tray. When he entered the living room, his family was busy trying to pick movies to watch for the evening.

“Kurt, back me up,” Carole exclaimed from her place on the sofa where she was tucked against her husband’s side. “It’s two against one here.”

Kurt grinned. “Let me guess, dad and Finn want _Die Hard_ and _Home Alone_ again?”

“Yes!” Carole groaned. “I proposed _Love, Actually_ and _Mamma Mia_.”

“I’m with you, obviously,” Kurt said immediately.

“Oh but see, it’s still two against two.” His dad smirked with amused satisfaction. “We’re at a stalemate, looks like we’ll have to compromise.”

Kurt arched his eyebrows over the cups he was setting on their Christmas coasters.

“Ah, not so fast. I’m sure Blaine will agree that love, singing and dancing are much more fun to watch on Christmas Eve than terrorists or clumsy robbers with a fixation. Won’t you, Blaine?”

When there was no answer, he straightened up and actually looked around the room, frowning.

“Where’s Blaine?”

Finn shrugged with his mouth full of crunchy goodness. “He brought the cookies and left.”

“Why?”

“Dunno. He didn’t, like, say anything.”

The tray forgotten on the table, Kurt rushed to Blaine’s room. The door was closed, but there was light visible underneath. He knocked.

“Blaine? Are you in there?”

There was a whisper of paper and a startled, “Yes, of course. Please come in.”

Blaine was sitting on the edge of his bed, straight-backed and alert, a book on the sheets beside him.

“What are you doing in here?” Kurt asked.

“Oh, I haven’t finished today’s chapter in my book yet, so I’m doing it now before I go to bed. Did you need me for anything else?”

Kurt frowned. “Well, I hoped you would come sit with us, watch a movie, drink some hot chocolate. It’s Christmas Eve after all.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Blaine looked down at his hands.

“Why not?”

“It’s not my place to be there,” Blaine said simply. “Christmas is family time.”

“And you’re family now, Blaine.”

Kurt jumped at his dad’s voice right by his side. He hadn’t even noticed Burt follow him.

Blaine’s head snapped up. He was on his feet instantly and Kurt could see the way his legs buckled slightly with a lifelong instinct to fall to his knees when spoken to. In the end, he simply looked down in deference.

“Sir?”

“Sit down, kid.”

Blaine perched on the very edge of the bed again as Burt walked into the room and settled on the chair opposite, his elbows on his knees. Kurt stayed in the doorway, watching.

“Blaine, was this how you spent Christmas before?” Burt asked gently. “Out of sight, out of the way?”

Blaine nodded. “Yes, Sir. I helped with the preparations when I was told to, but Christmas itself was usually quiet time alone for us slaves.”

“Have you ever truly celebrated it since you left home?”

Blaine smiled shyly, his face lighting up with a sweet memory. “Once, Sir. There was a group of us one year, and our master went away with his parents for Christmas. There was food left for us and everything, it was wonderful.”

Kurt remembered. “Was it when you were with Nick?”

Blaine nodded, his smile growing. “Yes, Kurt.”

Seeing his dad’s questioning gaze, Kurt explained. “Nick is a slave we met when we went to see Doctor Holland. Turns out he and Blaine were friends for a while when they shared a master. He and his owner, Jeff, are coming over in a couple of days so the boys can spend some time together. Sorry, I meant to tell you.”

His dad looked at him thoughtfully. “Okay,” he said eventually. “If you met them at Doctor Holland’s, I’m sure it’s alright.”

Then he looked back at Blaine. “You see kid, we don’t treat our slaves the way most owners do.”

Blaine nodded fervently. “Oh, I know, Sir! You are really good to me, Sir.”

“We are just decent people, Blaine. Our slaves become part of our family the moment they cross our threshold. And family means caring about each other and spending time together.”

Blaine was looking at him with wide eyes, silent. Burt leaned forward to lay his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“You’re family now, Blaine. Tomorrow, we’re having Christmas dinner with all the other slaves at the garage, and you are coming with us. No hiding in your room, okay?”

Blaine nodded, a hint of a smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Good,” Burt said. “And now, I’d like you to come have a nice family night with us.”

“Yes Sir,” Blaine breathed.

Kurt couldn’t hold in a grin at how adorable Blaine looked, stunned and bright-eyed like a child on a Christmas morning. Which wasn’t that far from the truth. He couldn’t wait to see Blaine’s face when he opened his presents tomorrow.

They ended up watching _Mamma Mia_ and then _Home Alone_ , an unavoidable compromise, but Kurt didn’t even care. He was too busy sneaking glances at Blaine’s reactions anyway.

 

* * *

 

Christmas gifts in the Hummel-Hudson household were usually exchanged late in the morning, after a leisurely breakfast. This year, it was almost noon before they were done cleaning up after the meal and gathered in the living room. Blaine was hovering uncertainly in the doorway, unsure if he was really welcome here. He was taking in the sparkling Christmas tree with the colorful gifts underneath like it was the most beautiful view he’d ever seen. Kurt took him by the hand and pulled him into the room, sitting him down on the floor by his side as Finn reached for the first packages to distribute.

Kurt loved giving gifts. He enjoyed receiving them too, of course, but there was definitely much more pleasure in watching the reactions to his carefully chosen presents. Now, with his parents focused on unwrapping their gifts for each other on the couch, and Finn already trying out his newest handheld console, Kurt’s full attention was on Blaine.

Blaine, who was watching the two gold-wrapped packages in front of him with a disbelieving frown.

“Yes, they are for you,” Kurt assured him again. “Look, they have your name.” He pointed to the little cards he penned himself.

“But Kurt, it’s too much, I don’t deserve all this. And I don’t even have anything for anyone.”

“Of course you don’t, no one expects you to have presents for us,” Kurt scoffed. “But we can give something to you. Come on, open this one first.” He pushed the bigger box towards him. “It’s from all of us. The other one is from me.”

Blaine unwrapped the package with trembling fingers, careful not to tear the shiny paper. By the time the box inside was revealed, Kurt could barely refrain from bouncing in excitement. Blaine stared at the picture with wide eyes.

“Is it–“

“It’s a CD player. I’ve noticed how much you enjoy music, so now you can listen to it in your room, too. I didn’t pick any CDs for you yet, you can use mine. And if you find something else you like on the radio – there’s a radio, too, see? – then we can start building your own music library. Do you like it?”

Blaine didn’t answer. He was sitting very still, his mouth slightly open. Two tears rolled silently down his cheeks.

“Blaine?” Kurt asked uncertainly. “What’s wrong?”

 Blaine’s breath hitched. “And it’s really… for me?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Kurt stressed.

“I just–” Blaine whispered. “I’ve never really had anything before. Nothing that was… really mine.”

Kurt’s throat tightened painfully. He hadn’t even thought about it.

“Well, now you do,” he said softly. “It’s entirely yours.”

“Thank you,” Blaine choked out.

Kurt handed him the second, smaller package. “Now this. I picked it myself, I hope you like it,” he said, feeling suddenly shy. “I mean, you need to have one of those so I thought– Oh, you’ll see.”

He watched Blaine fumble slowly with the tape, hindered by the box in his lap that he didn’t want to let go of even for a minute.

The slim, shiny black box inside finally opened, revealing a simple red bowtie tucked neatly against the white interior.

“It’s your collar,” Kurt hurried to explain. “Well, kind of. The law only says that the collar needs to go around your neck and contain the owner’s information. I wanted it to look cute, so I researched it a bit and–“ He took the bowtie out and lay it flat on his knee. “A lot of people do that in big cities, you know – bowties or jewelry instead of classic collars. They want their slaves fashionable, it’s quite popular there.”

He’d been through these arguments already, in a conversation with his dad when the package arrived a few days ago. Convincing him it was a good idea hadn’t been easy, but in the end he had grudgingly agreed. Blaine didn’t raise any of the objections Burt had, though. Instead, he reached out to stroke the soft fabric with reverent fingers, his eyes wide.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s easy to put on and take off, too,” Kurt pointed out, showing him the snap closure at the back. “I know that traditionally collars are locked, but it just seems so inhuman. And my information goes here.” He revealed a tiny pocket hidden in the folds of the bow and pulled out a small metal rectangle with his name and address embossed in minuscule script. There, as required by law, but as discreet as possible.

Blaine looked at the metal plate with over-bright eyes. “This is where it says I’m yours.”

“Yes.”

“I will wear it with pride, Kurt. Thank you.”

As much as Kurt despised the collar law, he couldn’t deny the warmth that flooded his insides at Blaine’s words.

 

* * *

 

The garage was on the other side of Lima, a three-story building with the business downstairs and the slaves’ quarters above it. Blaine was silent during the drive over, tucked between Kurt and Finn in the backseat, visibly nervous. Kurt was trying to make him relax a little, rattling about the place and its occupants to let him know what to expect.

“There will be nine other people besides us there. I’m sure you will like them. I’ve known most of them for years now – I literally grew up playing with some of them, especially after my mom died.”

Blaine’s eyes turned to him, big and earnest. “I didn’t know your mom died. I’m so sorry.”

 “It was a long time ago, almost ten years now.”

“That must have been very hard.” The sympathy on Blaine’s face made Kurt smile sadly.

“It was,” he admitted. “But my dad and I had each other and we survived somehow. I used to spend a lot of time at the garage back then. Some of the slaves there are like uncles and aunts to me. It’s really like a big family, you’ll see. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Blaine nodded uncertainly and tugged at the collar of the button-up Kurt had put him in. He didn’t have the bowtie on – slaves were only required to wear collars in public, and they were going from one private property to another tonight by car. Kurt had dressed him up in nice, crisp clothes though, and even trimmed and styled his shiny curls a little. The clothes didn’t hang on him half as much as they had two weeks ago, but they were still too loose, the pants held up only by a wide belt, the shirt baggy over his skinny torso.

“Now that you have a collar, I will be able to take you out shopping. We need to get you some proper clothes,” Kurt mused and Blaine frowned, confused.

“But I do have proper clothes. They are very good clothes, Kurt.”

“Oh, you have clothes, but I wouldn’t call them proper. They don’t fit you at all. You need things that you won’t be drowning in, Blaine. And I can’t wait to play with some colors. You have lovely coloring, I already have some ideas –“

“Just remember you’ll be on a budget,” his dad piped up from the driver’s seat. “Anything above that you’re paying for yourself.”

“I know, I know,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Spoilsport,” he added under his breath.

“I heard that,” his dad said dryly as he pulled over in front of the garage. “Okay, here we are. I’ll call one of the guys to come out and help us with the packages.”

Before he could take out his phone, though, the door at the side of the building opened and a huge, bald man appeared, his face split in a wide grin.

“That’s Jim,” Kurt told Blaine, who tensed noticeably at the sight of the mountain of muscles trotting towards the car. “He looks scary, I know, but he’s just a big teddy bear with a heart of gold. He was dad’s first slave at the garage and–“

“The introductions can wait, boys.” Burt said. “That trunk won’t unload itself.”

Kurt shrugged and squeezed Blaine’s hand. “Don’t worry. Family, remember?”

Despite the reassurance, Blaine was quiet and held close to Kurt’s side as they unpacked the various containers and boxes from the car and carried them inside. As they were passing by the customer entrance to the garage, he suddenly stopped. Kurt followed his line of sight to the large, weathered sign by the door.

_WE DON’T_  
 **SELL, RENT OUT,** OR  
ALLOW CUSTOMERS TO TOUCH   
OUR SLAVES

“Oh, I almost forgot about this thing,” he said. Blaine looked at him questioningly. “It’s been here for at least ten years. There was trouble with some people getting handsy, I think. I remember dad lost quite a few customers when he put that sign up.” He shrugged. “Come on, let’s get out of this cold.”

Blaine followed him inside, still wearing an astonished expression.

The slave quarters took up two floors, with five double bedrooms upstairs and a living area occupying the whole floor over the garage. The vast open space was bustling with activity tonight – people laughing and talking, carrying in food from the adjoining kitchen and moving chairs to accommodate everyone. A huge table took up most of the dining space, and it was already set with enough food for a small army. A small, very hungry army. The smells wafting from the steaming platters and saucers were amazing, just like the taste of everything would be, Kurt knew. Rob and Little John, the two slaves who always took over food preparation for special occasions like this, may look like a pair of aging wrestlers, but they cooked like gourmet chefs.

Kurt moved over to the smaller side table to help Carole unpack the desserts and sweets they brought, and a tall, spindly man that everyone called Hopper danced over immediately to give them a hand. He had the sweetest tooth Kurt had ever seen in an adult, and yet his limbs were so thin it seemed like a miracle they were able to hold him up at all. To his side, Kurt could hear the roaring laughter of Ugly Pete, a grizzly slave with a face covered in raised pink scars, courtesy of his old master and his whip. On the other side of the spacious room by the Christmas tree, he saw Fran, one of the two women at the garage, gesticulating wildly as she argued with the youngest of the lot, Andrew. In the kitchen, someone sang loudly and completely off-tune.

To Kurt, it felt like home. But in the middle of all this, Blaine stood alone like a scared, lost child.

Kurt made sure Blaine sat by his side when they finally took their places at the table, and just as he hoped, it seemed to relax the boy. Delicious food and festive atmosphere calmed him down further. Kurt was astonished how gentle everyone was with Blaine, pulling him into conversations, but not prodding him to talk. Even loud Fran, whose lack of filter was so notorious she wasn’t allowed to talk to customers at all, stayed sweet and almost swear-free. Burt must have told them all a little about the newest slave in the household because everyone carefully avoided any inquiries about his history, which would normally be the first topic of conversation. Each and every one of them had demons in their past, but his were different. A pleasure slave’s hell was paved with horrors the work slaves were not familiar with.

By the time desserts were served, Blaine was smiling and talking animatedly with Shannon, a middle-aged female slave with curly hair and a large, masculine body, whom the other slaves called “Beast” for some reason. They seemed to have found a common tongue, their connection easy and immediate. At one point, Blaine laughed out loud, a short, startled sound that made Kurt freeze, surprised. It was the first time he’d heard Blaine laugh.

Finally, the dinner was done and everyone gathered in the lounge area, chatting and laughing. Some sat on the sofas and armchairs scattered around the large space, others preferred to settle comfortably on the floor. When Kurt came back from helping in the kitchen, he found Blaine standing to the side, watching the scene with awed eyes. To someone who had only experienced mistreatment and abuse from most of his previous masters, this must have seemed like another world, all these happy, relaxed slaves sharing the Christmas night with their owners.

“Okay, gentlemen,” Burt called out, standing by the big box under the tree. “And ladies,” he added.

“There ain’t no ladies here, boss.” Fran cackled and the men hooted in agreement. Kurt knew that both Fran and Shannon were as tough as the guys here. They had to be.

“Well good, because I’m not sure ladies would appreciate that foosball table I got you.”

A cheer erupted among the slaves, two of them already opening the box, others moving a sofa aside, pushing it to the corner to make room for the new piece of furniture. Finn jumped up to help, almost as excited as the slaves.

Most of the party was now gathered around the foosball table in a happy chaos of bodies and voices. Kurt watched for a few minutes, but soon he got bored with the plastic players kicking the plastic ball, just like he always did with actual football. He stepped back and looked around the room, his eyes instinctively searching for Blaine.

He found the boy on the sofa pushed into the quiet corner. He wasn’t alone – Jim was sitting next to him, smiling as they talked quietly. Jim looked up just as Kurt started towards them.

“And here comes the best one of them all,” he bellowed with a wide grin. Blaine looked up, noticing Kurt for the first time, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but Kurt was sure he could see his shoulders relax.

“The best of what?” Kurt asked, approaching them.

“Oh, I was just telling Blaine what a wonderful family he has found himself in.” Jim turned back to Blaine as Kurt perched on the empty coffee table opposite. “Believe me, kid, I know how scary it is to be thrown from place to place, each worse than the last. But with Mister Kurt taking care of you, you’re in the best hands. You couldn’t have gotten better owners than the Hummels.”

Blaine smiled shyly, looking up at Kurt. “I know.”

“Look at Andrew there.” Jim pointed out the boy leaning on his crutches, deep in a conversation with Burt. “He came here last year, a 16-year-old with his leg shredded by some harvester in the field mere days before. The dealers said he was patched up and healing nicely, but it turned out there was an infection. A bad one.”

Blaine was listening to Jim, transfixed. “And he survived?”

“Oh yes,” Jim nodded gravely. “Only thanks to Mister Hummel. A lesser man would have let the kid die once they learnt how bad it was. Not him. He paid for the doctors, medication, everything that could be done, even when they told him the leg had to be cut off. You would think a slave without a leg was useless. And yet here he is, alive and working just like every one of us. He’s manning the reception at the garage now. He’s damn brilliant at it, too, coming up with all those ads and organizing ideas. I admit I had my doubts, but Mister Hummel said that no matter how broken a slave is, they’re still human and with proper care, they can be fixed and have a long, useful life. And damn, he was right.”

Blaine looked at Andrew, his expression thoughtful.

Jim seemed to be on a roll. “And if you need any other proof of how good your new owners are – who else but the best would use all this time and effort to free their slaves, right?”

At that, Blaine’s eyes snapped back to Jim, uncomprehending. “Free?”

“Well yes!” Jim frowned. “You don’t know?” He looked at Kurt. “But… I helped Mister Finn pack the books, I was sure–”

“I was waiting for the right moment to explain,” Kurt stuttered, feeling as if he was caught lying.

“Oh damn, Mister Kurt, I’m sorry!” Jim’s face fell. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s okay. I was going to tell Blaine soon. And you know more than me anyway, how about you explain the process for both of us, Jim?”

Blaine was glancing between Jim and Kurt, tense and confused. Kurt felt the blush rise on his cheeks. He should have found a way to tell Blaine himself, explain it gently. It was too late now.

“Blaine, Jim is a free man now,” he started. “But he used to be a slave here.”

“The first slave Mister Hummel bought for his garage, thirteen years ago,” Jim added proudly. “I worked for him for ten good years as a slave. Now I have a little apartment in town, but I still work here. I would never leave. No better boss than Mister Hummel.”

“But… slaves can really be freed?” Blaine asked quietly, like the concept contradicted everything he knew about the world.

“Oh, we can,” Jim said. “It just takes a lot of time and effort, and good people. But it happens. All of the slaves here are eventually going to be free. After me, two more were released – Hopper here, and one more who moved on to start his own family, so he ain’t here tonight. Our Beastie is next. You will be free one day, too. You’re already working on the books, aren’t you? Sooner than most of us.”

When Blaine met Kurt’s eyes, he looked scared – betrayed even. Kurt tried to smile apologetically.

“Well there’s still a lot of time. It’s mostly to give Blaine something to do as he heals and gathers his strength,” he said to Jim.

Blaine seemed to consider it. “But I’m strong and healthy already. So… if I may ask. What happens next? Do I move here to work at the garage as well?”

Kurt knew that was the plan, but the thought of not having Blaine under the same roof, not seeing him every day, was suddenly making his chest constrict. “I… let’s focus on now, okay?” He found himself evading.

Jim glanced at him, surprised, then turned to Blaine again. “It’s still years till you can be free anyway, kid. The law makes sure slaves can’t be released that easily.”

“Ten years, right?” Kurt asked, if only to divert Blaine’s attention from himself.

Jim nodded. “Well, technically, the slave has to be in their last master’s possession for at least five years, but it takes longer than that to gather the money required to declare him financially independent. Your father is paying every slave working here like he would regular employees, except he puts it in their accounts that they will have access to once they are free. It takes ten years to reach the required sum. And then there’s still the test.”

“What test?” Blaine whispered, looking more overwhelmed by the second.

“Well, people like to believe that slaves are dumber than average free folk, so there’s  this exam we need to pass before we can be freed,” Jim said with a hint of disdain in his voice. “That’s what you’re studying for, to prove you’re smart enough to be a regular citizen. It’s pretty big, but don’t worry, it’s years away.”

“Not for me,” said Shannon, who had been listening to the conversation, standing silently behind the sofa for a while now. “Mine’s in two months,” she explained when Blaine looked up at her.

“But… what if a slave doesn’t want to be free?” Blaine asked faintly, his face closing off, and Kurt’s heart squeezed painfully for him. Maybe it was too early.

“Oh munchkin, of course you do.” Shannon walked around to sit on the sofa, squeezing herself between the two men and laying a gentle hand on Blaine’s arm. “You don’t want to be a slave all your life if you have a way out. But really, don’t worry, they aren’t going to put you though that ordeal and abandon you. The Hummels are the fucking best. You won’t be alone.”

Blaine nodded, but he didn’t look convinced, just putting on a brave face for the world to see. It was good enough for Jim and Shannon, it seemed. They kept rattling about the change the Hummel family was making, freeing the slaves, showing the world how they should be treated, setting an example.

Kurt stayed there, smiling and blushing and feeling like he didn’t deserve all the praise at all.

 

* * *

 

They left the garage two hours later. Blaine was quiet, had been for a while now, and Kurt kept looking at him, trying to make sure he was okay. It was hard to tell. He looked exhausted, that was certain. They squeezed into the backseat with Finn and the ride home passed in silence.

Halfway there, Kurt felt a pressure on his shoulder. He looked in time to see Blaine’s eyes snapping open, his head jerking up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Kurt. I must have dozed off, I didn’t mean to–“

“It’s okay.” All Kurt wanted was to lay his hand on Blaine’s to soothe the nervous shiver, tell him to lean against him if he wanted. “You must be tired. It’s been a long day for you.”

“It was. But a wonderful one,” Blaine said, softly.

 


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER 16

The doorbell rang and Blaine almost bounced out of the chair he was sitting on. Kurt chuckled fondly.

“Go on then, open the door. I know you can’t wait to see him.”

“Thank you, Kurt.” Blaine called, already halfway to the front door. Kurt followed him at a slower pace, ready to welcome their guests.

It was three days after Christmas, the day of Jeff and Nick’s visit. No one else was home – Kurt’s parents were at work and Finn had decided he’d rather spend the day with Puck than stay with them. Blaine had been a picture of excitement all morning; Kurt loved seeing this happy side of him even if he was a little bit nervous himself.

He knew nothing about Jeff, really. He knew he took good care of his slave, judging by their first meeting in Doctor Holland’s waiting room, but other than that, the boy was a complete stranger. Kurt just hoped they would be able to find a common tongue. This visit was more for Blaine and Nick’s sake, but it would be nice to not spend it in awkward silence.

When Kurt got to the hall, the two slaves were already hugging in the doorway, Jeff waiting patiently behind them. Finally they pulled apart, making room in the small entrance area, and after a bit of shuffling around with coats and boots and the box of macarons the visitors brought, the initial chaos was under control and they could move over to the living room.

“May I make drinks for everyone, Kurt?” Blaine asked politely as soon as they were seated.

Normally, Kurt would protest, saying he could do it himself, but he could see how eager Blaine was to actually do something for their guests.

“That would be very nice, Blaine, thank you,” he said instead. “I’ll have coffee. Jeff?”

“Tea, thanks.”

Kurt nodded at Blaine and made sure to add, “And get whatever you like for the two of you, okay?”

“Yes, Kurt. Thank you.” Blaine beamed at him.

“I’ll go help you,” Nick sprang up from the little loveseat in the corner where he’d just settled. “If I may?” he added like an afterthought, looking between Jeff and Kurt.

“Of course,” Jeff said, and Kurt nodded.

Kurt could hear them talking quietly the second they left the room. He was alone with Jeff now and for a while, they just looked at each other, smiling awkwardly. Kurt cleared his throat, not sure what to say, then decided they had at least one topic that was sure to be shared.

“So, how long has Nick been with your family?” he asked.

“Almost two years now.”

“Oh wow. That’s quite a while.”

Jeff nodded. “How about Blaine? I never asked.”

“Just about a month.” Kurt said, a little astonished even as he said that. It felt like so much longer. It was already hard to remember what his life had been like before Blaine became a part of it.

“He looks much better than when we first met,” Jeff said.

“Yes, he’s healing nicely. Physically, at least.”

“So…” Jeff hesitated, then went on. “You really saved him from the market?”

Kurt nodded, his face falling as memories hit him. “They were going to kill him there, I bought him at the last moment.”

Jeff’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “Wow. I heard terrible things about those markets but I had no idea–” He paused and schooled his face into an oddly controlled expression. “It was nice of you to do that when buying a healthy, undamaged slave would have been much easier in the long run.”

Kurt stared at him. “What?” It took a few seconds before he understood what Jeff was suggesting, but when it registered, he shook his head fervently. “No, no, no, I wasn’t there to buy anyone. Not for myself anyway, I was just driving a friend there.”

“Oh, so you weren’t looking for a…” Jeff looked behind him and finished in a whisper, “a sex slave?”

“Of course not!” Kurt exclaimed, loud enough that the two boys in the kitchen fell completely silent. He toned it down to a furious whisper when they went back to chatting. “They’re people, not toys! I only bought Blaine because I had to help him. That’s all I want for him, to be safe and happy.”

“Oh thank god,” Jeff said, clearly relieved and smiling earnestly for the first time since he arrived. The wariness that Kurt had felt from him all along was gone. “I’m sorry, I just know way too many guys who think that having a sex slave is the most obvious and natural thing, and it creeps me out. And seeing how both Nick and Blaine had been sex slaves before, I thought… Anyway, I’m sorry for assuming.”

“It’s okay. So I guess it _is_ safe to assume you did not buy Nick for _that_ , either?” Kurt felt himself blush, talking about things like that with a stranger.

“Nope, I sure didn’t. In fact–”

He was interrupted when Blaine entered, carrying the tray with four steaming mugs. Behind him, Nick carried a sugar bowl and a cream pitcher. They put it all down on the coffee table, setting the mugs in front of Kurt and Jeff first, then taking their hot chocolate to the side table by the loveseat where they would settle. Kurt had to smile, watching Blaine acting so at home, confident in his task, no trace of fear or uncertainty left.

Nick ran back to the kitchen to put away the tray, and then both slaves stood by the loveseat, looking at their owners, waiting for instructions.

Kurt smiled at them. “Thank you. Don’t mind us, I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”

He looked at Jeff to confirm the other boy didn’t have other ideas for what the slaves should be doing, but he just smiled. Blaine and Nick didn’t need more encouragement – they sat down and got right back to their conversation. From what Kurt could hear of it, they were talking about their life among the “Warblers” at their old owner’s house, remembering other slaves in their group and wondering what had happened to them since.

“I bet Trent’s still there,” he heard Nick say. Blaine nodded in agreement.

“Of course. He was always Master’s favorite. No one else got called in for wake-up sex as often as he did.”

Kurt quickly turned his attention back to Jeff, mortified.

Jeff smiled at him sadly.

“So I gather you never talked to Blaine about what he went through with his previous owners?” Jeff asked softly.

“Not in much detail, no. I’ve heard some of it, and I can guess more from his injuries, but I never asked about anything particular. I guess he’d rather forget, too.”

They turned to lighter topics after that, talking about school and hobbies, and all those little things people discuss when they get to know each other. Kurt learned that Jeff was also a senior, and he attended a private school. He sang, like Kurt did, and his Glee club was big enough to take part in competitions. They’d even won Sectionals once. Kurt couldn’t help but envy him.

Aside from those few similarities, though, he and Jeff couldn’t be more different. Jeff loved all kinds of sports, both watching and playing, and didn’t care about Broadway or fashion. He wore whatever was comfortable, didn’t read _Vogue_ , enjoyed Top 40 music and wanted to become a physical therapist. Despite all the differences, they soon found they really enjoyed each other’s company. Before it was time for lunch, they’d already decided they had to make the meetings a regular thing, especially since it turned out they lived just a short drive away from each other.

By the time lunch was over – a cold pasta salad that Kurt had tossed together this morning – they were joking around and laughing with no trace of awkwardness left. It felt good to talk so freely to someone who understood and shared Kurt’s beliefs about slaves.

***

It was almost time for Jeff and Nick to go home. The two slaves were clinging to each other more and more as the time of separation approached, despite the reassurance that they would get to see each other again soon. Currently, they were on the loveseat again, Nick’s arm thrown around Blaine’s shoulders, their heads close together as he showed Blaine some vacation pictures on Jeff’s cell phone. Kurt was so busy watching them across the room and trying to convince himself the feeling rising in his throat wasn’t what he thought it was that he didn’t realize Jeff had been actually watching _him_ watch them.

“Aww, you’re totally in love with him.” Jeff bumped Kurt’s shoulder playfully, his eyes twinkling.

“What? No, of course not, I’d never–” Kurt shook his head fervently.

Jeff laid a steady hand on his shoulder. “Come on, of course you wouldn’t act on it, not when he’s still so hurt and skittish. But he won’t be traumatized forever. He’s already looking so much happier.”

“Well he’s no longer abused, of course he’s happier. But I can’t see how he can not be traumatized after what he’d been through,” Kurt whispered.

Nick squeezed his shoulder. “He’ll be okay. You’re taking great care of him, and he’s healing, inside and out. Trust me, give it time, you will both figure it out. That’s how it happened for us, too. Sort of organically, you know?”

Kurt’s jaw dropped a little. “Wait, you mean, you and Nick? You’re a couple?”

“Yup.” Jeff grinned.

“So you’re… gay?”

That made Jeff chuckle. “Obviously. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I just. I never met another. Gay boy my age, I mean,” Kurt stuttered, his eyes wide.

“Sorry Kurt, I’m taken, and happily so.” Jeff winked at him and Kurt laughed, the shock slowly passing.

“So you and Nick. Wow. My mind is kind of blown.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s pretty uncommon to have an actual relationship with your slave.” Jeff shrugged. “We tried to fight it at first, since neither of us were sure that this was best for the other, but in the end, we couldn’t let it go. I love him and he loves me. That’s what counts.”

“How long have you been together?” Kurt asked, a little choked up with the revelation.

“Just over a year now.”

“And no one knows?”

“Oh, my mom knows, and a few of my closest friends,” Jeff said. “They’re okay with it. To be honest, I don’t really see Nick as a slave, and I hate that we have to remember to act that way in public. But it’s not accepted, so we hold up the pretense, at least until Nick is free. Until then, he’s working at one of the restaurants my family owns.”

“What about next year?” Kurt asked, his own college dilemma on his mind.

Jeff shrugged. “He’s gonna move with me when I go to college, of course.”

“So you’re going to rent an apartment then?”

“No, of course not. Most schools allow personal slaves in the dorms for an extra fee, didn’t you know?” Kurt shook his head. He’d never really researched the topic. “I’m trying for the University of Delaware or the University of Pittsburgh because they have some of the best programs in physical therapy. And Nick will be able to keep working in either case because my family’s restaurant chain reaches there.” Jeff smiled, excited. “I can’t wait. Where are you planning to go?”

“New York.” Kurt replied, without further details. He wasn’t sure about them himself yet.

Jeff nodded. “What about Blaine? Are you taking him with you?”

Kurt hesitated. “I don’t know yet. It’s all so new. He was supposed to go to work at my dad’s garage but…”

“But you can’t imagine going without him?” Jeff smiled with understanding. “Told you, you’re totally falling for him.”

He winked and then got up from the couch and crossed the room to stand in front of the loveseat.

“Okay, we need to go,” he said to Nick and reached out his hand. Nick took it and with one last hug for Blaine, got up. Jeff smiled at him. “We’ll get together again in a week or two, don’t worry, guys.”

Jeff’s words were still playing in Kurt’s head hours later, as he went to bed. He didn’t really think he was falling for Blaine. Or was he? He definitely wasn’t lusting after him or anything like that. But if he was being honest with himself, he did _like_ Blaine… a lot. Thinking of what Jeff and Nick had in each other filled him with longing, and he doubted it was just that he wanted a boyfriend of his own, simply someone to fill that empty spot. The shot of jealousy he felt when he watched Blaine curled up so close with Nick was a pretty good indicator.

Just admitting it in his head felt wrong. After everything Blaine had been through, what he needed was someone to care about him, in an innocent, friendly way. He needed safety, not complications.

It would never work. Kurt just needed to forget about it.

But the seed, once sprouted, would not go anywhere but up.

***

Santana’s New Year’s Eve party wasn’t big this year, the only guests being people from New Directions, which was the only reason Kurt considered attending. He’d let Finn convince him to come after his dad and Carole promised they would take good care of Blaine and include him in their quiet celebration at home. He needed a break anyway, an escape from all the thinking he couldn’t get away from since his conversation with Jeff.

Going to the party turned out to be a good decision. Surrounded by his friends, Kurt found himself relaxing and having fun. He danced with Mercedes, sang karaoke with Rachel, drank champagne and watched fireworks at midnight. There was even a short, but fierce snowball fight in the backyard afterwards. Since Puck and Santana made sure there was more than enough liquor, Kurt ended up drinking way more than he’d planned. Which was great, up until the moment when his giddy, bubbly mood suddenly dissolved into something definitively darker.

He was sitting on the floor in the corner with Tina at that point, probably because they decided it was the surface least likely to sway underneath them. They were giggling madly, watching Puck hanging a spoon from his nose and trying to teach Artie to do the same, and then, within an instant it took to look at Rachel slow-dancing with Finn, Tina was suddenly dissolving into tears. The change was so rapid it almost gave Kurt whiplash.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He poked Tina’s side, confused. She just cried harder, falling sideways against him until her head was on Kurt’s shoulder.

“I wanna dance with him like that!” she wailed into his ear. Her tears were already seeping through his shirt. “I want him holding _me_ , with his abs all hard against me and his moves so fluid and and–” She sobbed harder.

Kurt squinted at her. “Are you sure you’re talking about Finn?”

“Not F-F-Finn, Mike.” She sniffed loudly.

Kurt frowned, trying hard to locate any Mikes in the vicinity and coming up empty. He shrugged his shoulder a few times, making Tina sit back up and lean against the wall instead, before turning to face her.

“Who’s Mike?”

“Mike is the hottest guy on earth and he’s so kind and nice and pretty and I l-l-love him.” She stated and started crying again.

“Okay,” Kurt said cautiously, “but who _is_ he?”

That made Tina pause and she frowned at him, clearly disapproving of his ignorance. “He’s a dancer at the club where Sam performs. The hot Asian one, remember?”

Kurt had a vague recollection that was made fuzzier by the alcohol in his system, but he nodded. Tina smiled through her tears. “Isn’t he dreamy?”

Kurt focused harder, trying to recall the relevant details of his one and only visit to the stripper bar in Westerville where Mercedes’ slave Sam danced sometimes. It was a challenge because he’d spent a big part of that visit trying not to look at the almost naked guys on the stage or any other mortifying details of the seedy little bar.

“But… isn’t he a slave there? Owned by the bar?” he asked without thinking it through, and then wished he hadn’t because the momentary smile was wiped right off Tina’s face as she buried her face in her hands, a fresh wave of tears flowing.

“He is,” she sobbed out. “He’s their slave and there’s no way I can afford to buy him and my parents don’t have the money for that either, and they refuse to take a loan and we just… we _love_ each other, Kurt. And he has to dance for _anyone_ there, and, and _more_.”

The crying was out of control now and Kurt patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and got up on unsteady feet to find her some tissues. There were none within sight though, and Santana was nowhere to be seen at the moment either, so Kurt went to the bathroom to grab some toilet paper instead.

On his way there, he couldn’t help but imagine being in Tina’s situation – what would it feel like, knowing that Blaine was out there, watched and touched by others, with nothing Kurt could do? The thought sobered him up pretty quickly, an empty feeling in his stomach making him nauseated.

Back with Tina, he passed her the wad of toilet paper and she blew her nose loudly before looking up at him with puffy, red eyes.

“We’re doomed,” she said gravely. “We can only watch each other from afar and sometimes steal a moment or a dance when I save some money. There’s no future for us, none!”

She slumped against the wall again, miserable, and Kurt froze, her words striking him to the core. _No future_. Wasn’t it exactly what he had with Blaine?

Because the longer he thought about it, the more he was certain he _was_ indeed falling for Blaine. He’d known that already, hadn’t he? That’s why his mood had been so swingy these last few days – because he had feelings for Blaine, but Blaine was so hurt and damaged by his previous owners that there was no way Kurt could ever do anything about it. He would never hurt Blaine in any way, even if it meant he had to keep his feelings hidden forever.

So even though Blaine wasn’t a stripper at a seedy bar, he was just as unavailable to him as Mike was to Tina. No future there, either.

Kurt slumped against the wall next to Tina, feeling deeply unhappy. “We need more alcohol.”

If she noticed the change of his mood, she didn’t show it, just nodded and struggled up. “Yeah. I’ll bring us some.”

Kurt wasn’t sure what they ended up drinking – he just knew it was strong and citrusy, and they drank it straight from the bottle, passing it between them. They didn’t talk much, but being in this together felt strangely comforting.

By the time Finn found him and led him out to the car – or maybe hauled would be a more appropriate word – Kurt’s legs were doing really weird things and he still felt faintly nauseated. He demanded to have his window open on the way home and Finn, stone-cold sober as the designated driver, just sighed and agreed. By the time they delivered Tina, Rachel and Puck to their respective destinations and got home themselves, the biting cold air has done a pretty good job of sobering Kurt up, at least enough for him to walk mostly straight. 

The house was silent when they got there. Everyone was asleep, which was really no wonder since it was almost 3 AM. Finn said goodnight and, yawning widely, went up to his room, but Kurt didn’t feel sleepy. Even after the ride home, he still felt melancholy, the echoes of Tina’s words ricocheting through him. He went to the kitchen and drank a big glass of tap water, then opened the fridge, feeling kind of hungry. Nothing seemed appealing though, so he just grabbed a bottle of water to take to his bedroom.

On his way to the stairs, he had to pass by the door to Blaine’s room, which drew him like a beacon tonight. With barely a second of hesitation, Kurt quietly turned the doorknob.

Blaine was lying on his side with his back to the door and for a moment Kurt felt an irresistible pull to just get closer to the sleeping boy, maybe sit down on the bed. He’d touch Blaine’s wrist to feel his pulse, the reassuring rush of blood under warm skin. He’d listen to his calm breathing, gently stroke his hand over the now-healed expanse of Blaine’s back, and he would know that at least the boy was safe. Maybe Kurt could have nothing more, but he did have the certainty that as long as he was Blaine’s owner, the slave would be warm and fed and well cared for. That was enough.

He resisted – barely – the siren call of Blaine’s warm, sleeping body, but he couldn’t quite resist the wave of affection that washed over him as he stood in the doorway, watching. Tears that hadn’t come up when he was sitting in that corner with Tina, now threatened to choke him. He swallowed them too loudly in the quiet room and waited for the pain to subside.

“It’s okay,” he whispered when he could finally speak. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. We’ll be okay.”

Nothing stirred in the house, the silence buzzing in Kurt’s ears, and suddenly he realized how creepy the situation was. What was he doing, here in Blaine’s room in the middle of the night?

Face hot with embarrassment, he managed to step out of the room and close the door behind him without making any noise, and with a breath of relief, he tiptoed upstairs to his room.

In the dark, quiet room downstairs, one pair of eyes was wide open, one heart pounding rapidly in a skinny chest.


	26. IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!!

Hello dear readers!

This is an important announcement: 

I am signing this story over to the amazing anxioussquirrel. The story will be continued on her fanfiction.net account, so she has all the editing rights as an author.   
This is where you can find her works: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3120542/anxioussquirrel   
Please subscribe to the story there for future updates. 

Don’t forget to send a lot of love and awesome reviews her way. She’s a fantastic author and an amazing person. I couldn’t wish for anyone more talented to continue this story. As you have seen in the past few chapters, she will continue to do an outstanding job and drown you all in feels.  
Thank you for all the lovely reviews and support you have shown me.

Goodbye guys! 

Love,  
Captain Pihkal


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,  
> Kate (anxioussquirrel) here. I finally found my way to AO3, which means I can post the rest of Worthless/Priceless here as well. For now, I'm uploading the chapter that was posted everywhere else some time ago. There are five or six chapters left to be written - they are outlined and approved by captain_pihkal already, and I will get to them as soon as I dig myself out of the "work and novel eat all my time, I need more hours in a day" hole. Thank you for sticking with this story :)

**CHAPTER 17**

“It’s high time we went and bought some proper clothes for Blaine,” Kurt announced over breakfast on the last Saturday of January. “We’re invited over to Jeff and Nick’s next weekend, and there’s no way I’ll have Blaine visit anyone in oversized hand-me-downs. Anyone wants to come with?”

Predictably, no one did, so it was just Kurt and Blaine that got into the car an hour later and started towards the Lima Mall.

Truth be told, the hand-me-downs weren’t even that oversized anymore. Blaine had filled out nicely since November, and though he was still on the thin side, it looked like Kurt’s old clothes would be just the right size for him soon. They would never be quite the right fit, though – Blaine’s build was different from his – and Kurt couldn’t wait to put him in nice new clothes bought specifically for him. He had plenty of ideas for both colors and styles to try.

He was excited for the upcoming visit, too. Ever since his New Year’s Eve revelation, Kurt felt like his attraction towards Blaine was growing stronger every day, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He certainly didn’t feel ready to reveal it to anyone, especially Blaine. But every time Blaine smiled at him happily, or said “Yes, Kurt” in that sweet, reverent way of his, or even just looked up at him with eyes so wide and earnest, Kurt’s heart felt like it was close to overflowing with feelings, and surely someone was bound to notice soon. Considering how much time they were spending together, there was a risk that someone would be Blaine himself.

Kurt had to talk to Jeff. Jeff had been though this, so he’d know what to do. Next Sunday couldn’t come soon enough. Until then, Kurt needed distractions, and shopping for clothes was bound to be one of the best there was.

Or so he thought – up until the moment Blaine stepped out of the changing room in the first of several outfits Kurt had chosen for him to try on, and Kurt’s jaw, quite literally, dropped.

Blaine looked fantastic in slim jeans and a simple, well-fitted polo shirt. His hair had been styled with a little product before they left, his bowtie collar sat snug and elegant around his neck, and he didn’t look like a slave at all – just like a regular teenage boy, stunning with his bright eyes and a shy smile; a boy that Kurt would love to ask out on a date if he dared, and hold his hand, and kiss him goodnight.

Oh boy. This day was going to be torture.

Kurt cleared his throat. “Okay, the pants are perfect, we’re taking them. The shirt is a maybe. Show me the red one next, please.”

“Yes, Kurt,” Blaine said sweetly and smiled his beautiful smile, looking up at him from beneath his long lashes. “I’m sorry I’m taking so long and wasting your time on waiting,” he added before disappearing behind the changing room curtain.

In the end, they didn’t buy too much. Kurt loved a lot of what Blaine modeled for him, but he suppressed the urge to purchase everything and chose only the best instead. Blaine would need spring clothes soon enough, probably in a bigger size, too, so Kurt decided to save a good chunk of what he’d received for Blaine’s clothes from his dad for then. Right now, a couple of nice basic shirts and pants, and a pair of good quality shoes would suffice.

The main goal of their trip achieved, Kurt considered visiting a few more stores to look for some new additions to his own wardrobe. But first, a short break was in order. He was getting hungry and Blaine looked tired, though happy. A quick lunch at Subway sounded like a great idea.

 

Judging by how crowded the food court was, it looked like half the town’s population decided to spend the cold, snowy day shopping. Blaine kept close to Kurt’s side as they navigated among the tables and people, but it wasn’t until they got to the slightly quieter corner where Subway was that Kurt noticed how tightly Blaine was clutching the handles of the bags he carried.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.

Blaine shook his head, his eyes set down. “I’m sorry, Master. It’s just a lot of people in one place.”

Suddenly, Kurt realized. “Oh, I didn’t think, you’re not used to malls at all, are you? I’m sorry, Blaine. Does it remind you of the market? Do you need to leave? We can leave,” he said.

“No, no. It’s nothing like the market, Master. I just got startled. I’m sorry, I’ll be fine.” He still wasn’t looking up though, and that worried Kurt. That, and something else.

“Hey, we agreed you’re not calling me Master, remember? Just Kurt is fine.”

Blaine finally looked at him, his eyes wide and earnest. “Oh, but I have to, Master. We’re in public. It would be disrespectful if I called you by your given name for people to hear.”

Kurt wanted to say that he didn’t give a damn what other people thought of him – he’d long learned not to care – but the concern in Blaine’s voice stopped him. This was Blaine’s way of looking out for him, in the only way he knew how – by being the best slave he could be, for everyone to see.

“Okay then,” Kurt said. “Thank you, Blaine. Just please call me Kurt when we’re not in public anymore, okay?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Okay. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Do you want me to go save a table for you, Master?”

Kurt frowned. “What? No, Blaine, you have to pick your sandwich.”

“But… you want me to eat here, too?”

“Of course. It’s lunch time.”

“But Master, eating here will cost you money, and you have already spent so much more on me than what I am worth.” Blaine looked distressed. “I don’t need to eat lunch, Master.”

Kurt sighed. Would Blaine ever let go of the notion he was worthless? Considering how long he’d had that drilled into his head, it was definitely going to be a challenge.

“No, Blaine,” he said patiently. “Of course you need to eat, you’re still so thin. And you deserve food and clothes and everything. You’re a human being. And I care about you. So please, come and choose what you would like to eat.”

Eyes down again, Blaine said softly, “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

He seemed overwhelmed by the amount of options, but with Kurt’s guidance and commentary, he finally relaxed a little and ordered a sub for himself. The tray with their food and drinks in hand, Kurt led him to a table, where Blaine carefully set the bags on a chair and proceeded to lower himself down onto the little kneeling pillow provided at every table.

“No, Blaine,” Kurt snapped.

“Master?” Blaine sounded scared and Kurt softened his tone immediately.

“I don’t want you kneeling while you eat. I appreciate you being such a perfect slave, but get up and sit on the chair, please. I will never ask you to kneel for me, not ever, do you understand? Not at home and not in public, no matter what other people might think.”

Blaine nodded and obeyed without a word, sitting stiffly at the very edge of his chair, and Kurt hated that he was the one to put this upset look on Blaine’s face and make him uncomfortable. But he couldn’t have him kneel. Just… no. He looked around, hoping to see more slaves sitting at the tables with their owners, to point out to Blaine as a reassurance – they passed some on their way, but to his dismay, now there were none within sight. All those around them who had taken their slaves shopping with them – mostly to carry their bags around, Kurt knew – had them kneeling by their chairs, on the little pillows or even on the bare floor.

Two tables over, behind Blaine’s back, a guy around their own age reigned over a table while two teenage boys in identical navy blazers with red details knelt at his feet, thick black collars around their necks. Kurt sighed. He knew there were people who treated their slaves with respect and care, but the overwhelming majority did not, and it broke his heart. Rachel always claimed that this was what slaves needed, how they were brought up to be treated. And still she wondered why they argued.

Kurt turned to Blaine again, determined to fix the suddenly dampened mood. “Hey, have I told you about the time when Finn and Puck had a bet about who could eat more subs here?”

Blaine shook his head, and Kurt dove into the story that quickly turned into another, and then another. He chose funny, lighthearted memories, and soon Blaine was smiling again, more relaxed by the minute. He even laughed once, a sweet, squeaky sound that went right to Kurt’s heart.

At some point during his silly little storytelling, one of the slaves from the other table – a short, compact boy with a round face – passed by on his way to the counter. As he was returning with a refill of his owner’s drink, he paused in his tracks and stared wide-eyed at Blaine who didn’t even notice, focused on Kurt’s tale. When the slave realized Kurt was looking at him, he set his eyes down immediately, trotting over to his owner’s table.

Kurt frowned. What was that? Did the boy realize Blaine was a slave? Was he shocked that he was sitting at the table and eating with Kurt like an equal? Why would he? It wasn’t unheard of, though definitely frowned upon in some circles. Kurt watched as the boy he carefully set the drink down, then knelt again, but when nothing more happened, he turned his full attention back to his conversation with Blaine.

 

They were almost done eating when a tall, skinny figure loomed over their table.

“Well well well,” the slave owner from the other table drawled. “If it isn’t my little Blaine. I wouldn’t have recognized you from behind, lounging on a chair like that, if Trent hadn’t told me he saw you – Trent, come here, boy.”

The round-faced boy approached them; as soon as he reached the table, he dropped to his knees on the abandoned kneeling pillow. Blaine let out a strangled little sound.

“Yes, Master?” Trent asked quietly.

“You were right, Trent, it is Blaine. And his new owner, I believe?” He extended his hand to Kurt, who only glared at him. “Sebastian Smythe. I was your slave’s previous owner, wasn’t I, Blaine?”

Blaine opened his mouth and then shut it, frantically looking between Kurt and Sebastian. He was perched at the very edge of the chair again, as if ready to drop down to his knees at a second’s notice.

“You answer when a Master asks you a question, boy,” Sebastian said sternly, and Kurt snapped.

“No, he doesn’t. Not to you.” He turned to Blaine, who was starting to shake in his seat, and spoke softly, “It’s okay, you don’t have to talk to him. You’re here with me, remember? You’re mine.” Then he looked at Sebastian again, crossing his arms. “What do you want?”

“Why, I was just going to say hello to my old slave. Sweet little Blaine with his talented mouth. Don’t you just love his blowjobs? Of course, I was the one who taught him most of what he knows.”

For a moment, Kurt was rendered speechless – which didn’t happen often. A furious blush crept up his face. Sebastian took that time to look Blaine over, his eyes sliding appraisingly up and down his body.

“You should take better care of your slaves, you know,” he said. “He is much too skinny now. Which is a waste. I think he had the most perfect ass of all the slaves I’ve ever had.” He looked at the boy kneeling at his feet. “Yes, even better than you, Trent, don’t look at me like that. You know full well how fuckable Blaine’s bubble butt used to be. Not so much now, I’m afraid. Of course, that’s to be expected if you can only afford a used slave.”

Kurt growled. “I think you should stop talking now and return to your table.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Aw, are you jealous that I had your slave first? Is he remembering me fondly?” He turned to Blaine. “Are you, Blaine? Thinking of all the times I put my cock in your tight little ass and–”

“That’s enough.” Kurt stood up, his chair crashing to the floor with the force of it. To his annoyance, he was a bit shorter than Sebastian, but his glare made up for it. “Blaine, come on. We’re leaving.”

Sebastian’s laughter chased after them as they strode out of the food court.

 

“Are you okay?” Kurt asked as soon as they were out in the parking lot.

Blaine had his head down and his shoulders hunched, which made him look smaller, so unlike the bubbly, smiling boy who had entered the building with Kurt that very morning.

“Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master,” he said quietly.

“Why would you be sorry? You did nothing wrong.”

“I disgraced you, Master. I wasn’t a good slave and you were shamed for being my owner. Please punish me as you see fit, Master.”

Blaine looked like the only thing keeping him from dropping to his knees was Kurt’s earlier order not to. It had been months since Kurt had last seen him like this, so scared and submissive, and it broke his heart. He put his hands on Blaine’s shoulders, not caring who might see or what they might think.

“Blaine, please look at me.”

The slave obediently raised his head. His golden eyes looked like liquid pools of misery. Kurt gently squeezed his shoulders. “Blaine, have I ever punished you?”

“No, Master.”

“Haven’t I told you that I’m _never_ going to punish you?”

Blaine hesitated. “You did, Ma–“

“Drop the Master,” Kurt interrupted. “There isn’t anyone around, and even if they were, I’m no Master, I’m Kurt. You will never be punished while you’re under my care, Blaine. And I was _not_ ashamed to be there with you. I don’t care what that guy said or thought. You were doing exactly what I asked you to, and I am proud to have such a beautiful, perfect boy with me. I’d like you to remember that, okay?”

Blaine’s lower lip quivered, but his shoulders were straightening under Kurt’s hands. He raised his head a little higher still so that he was standing straight at last.

“Yes, Kurt,” he whispered.

Kurt really wanted to hug him, but they were in public, after all. So he just put his hand on the small of Blaine’s back and led him to the car.

 

“Do you miss him?” Kurt asked a few days later when he found Blaine staring into space yet again, clearly bothered with something.

Blaine looked up at him, confused. “Who?”

“Your previous owner. Sebastian.” He tried very hard not to spit the name out like something disgusting.

Blaine’s eyes widened. “Oh, no Kurt. How could I miss him when I’m yours now?”

Kurt shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not really… experienced or… I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted. “I have no idea if I’m good enough for you at all.”

Blaine got up from the couch he’d been sitting on so that he could look Kurt in the eye – a thing so rare and un-slave-like that it felt all the more significant.

“Kurt,” he said, “You are the best owner I’ve ever had. I never dreamed I could be so happy. Please don’t ever doubt that. Please.”

His eyes were so bright and earnest that Kurt’s throat tightened with emotion. He could only nod wordlessly. It took a long moment before he managed to choke out, “Thank you.”

 

It was Thursday and Kurt was running a little late. College application deadlines were approaching fast, and he made a stop at Mr. Schuester, Miss Pilsbury, and a few of his teachers’ classrooms after school to gather his recommendation letters.

Blaine wasn’t waiting by the door when Kurt entered, which was a first. He didn’t answer when Kurt called either. Kurt kicked off his boots and haphazardly hung his jacket, in a rush to see if everything was okay.

No one else was home – Kurt’s parents had a date night after work today and wouldn’t be back until late, and Finn had practice. The house was silent, empty in a way it hadn’t been since November, and anxiety started building up in Kurt’s chest. Blaine wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, and there was no sign of him in his room. Kurt ran up the stairs. Finn’s room was empty, too, and the bathroom door stood open, revealing a dark interior.

With his pulse hammering wildly, Kurt pulled open the door to his room – and froze.

Blaine was kneeling on Kurt’s bed, wearing nothing but a pair of simple black briefs. His head was lowered in what was probably a respectful position – or would be, if he wasn’t so very _naked_ , why was he naked? Kurt squeaked and covered his eyes, but not before he noticed the dusting of dark hair on Blaine’s olive skin, his tiny pink nipples and the goose bumps covering his arms and chest.

“Oh my god, Blaine, what are you doing in here?” he gasped, his eyes firmly squeezed behind his hands, just in case.

“I–” Blaine stuttered, but then bravely pushed on. “Kurt, I… I know that I’m still too thin for your liking and not so appealing, but… Mistress Carole got a call this morning that the new blood tests came back clean and… I’m healthy now, Kurt. I’m not infectious anymore, I can safely service you in any way you want. I… I want to. You’re my Master and I want to repay you for everything you’ve given me.”

Kurt frantically shook his head, eyes still covered. It broke his heart – how could Blaine still think he owed Kurt anything, let alone his body? Why would he feel he needed to do this? Had he somehow noticed Kurt staring at him, daydreaming, and thought it was because of lust?

“No, honey,” Kurt said softly. “Please get dressed. I told you – I don’t need you to repay me – I don’t _want_ you to think you need to. Please. Just get dressed.”

If his hands weren’t still firmly covering his face, he would have seen the way Blaine’s face fell, the heartbroken look in his eyes. But he kept them there to grant Blaine privacy, and it was only when he heard Blaine’s steps descending the stairs that Kurt opened his eyes, closed the door and allowed himself a silent freak-out.


	28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER 18

“I have to talk to you. Alone,” Kurt whispered urgently the second Blaine and Nick moved to the kitchen to get the cheesecake out of the fridge.

They’d been at Jeff’s house for two hours now, but the two slave boys had been within earshot the whole time, and Kurt thought he would burst if he didn’t find a way to tell Jeff about the recent developments. The last few days had been awful, with Blaine so subdued and distant at all times, and Kurt couldn’t stand another day like this. He had no idea what to do.

Jeff arched his eyebrow at him and got up without a word. Kurt watched him walk over to the open plan kitchen and wind his arms around Nick’s middle. Here, in private, they didn’t act like an owner and a slave in the slightest.

“Hey, let’s hold the dessert for the moment,” Jeff said, brushing a quick kiss to Nick’s cheek. Kurt ached at the display of intimacy. He dared to glance at Blaine, who stood to the side with his eyes set down. 

Nick nuzzled his face against Jeff’s with a smile. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you take Blaine to your room? You wanted to show him that video on your computer, remember?”

If Nick saw through the pretext, he didn’t show it. “Oh, right. Thanks for reminding me,” he said. He stepped out of Jeff’s embrace and tugged at Blaine’s sleeve. “Come on, you’re gonna love it! And I can lend you the album I told you about.”

He started towards the stairs, but Blaine lagged behind, turning to Kurt with a perfectly schooled expression.

“May I—” Blaine started, and Kurt nodded before he even finished.

“Of course, go on. You’re here to spend time with Nick after all.”

“Thank you, Kurt.”

There it was again, his name used as the synonym of Master. Kurt ground his teeth.

He turned to Jeff as soon as he heard the door close upstairs. “I messed up.”

Jeff pulled his knees up on the cream-colored leather couch and turned to face him. “Yeah, I wondered what’s wrong. What happened?”

The story spilled out of Kurt, from the shock of finding Blaine almost naked in his bedroom to the way Blaine acted around him now, not so much afraid like he was at the beginning, but wary and unsure.

Jeff patted him on the shoulder. “What exactly did you tell him?”

“That I don’t want him to do this? Or that he doesn’t need to do this? I’m not even sure, I was in shock.” He heard Jeff hiss and looked up to see him wincing. “What?”

“Oh you messed up, indeed.”

“I know that much! I just don’t know how to fix it. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Just… _use_ him _,_ like his previous owners had? Because that’s not even an option.”

“Of course it isn’t. But I bet he believes that you don’t want him at all, now.”

“What? Of course I do. I told him I do, time and again, I thought he believed me by now. But I don’t want him for _sex_.”

“Yeah, but remember who he was before. I don’t know much about Blaine’s history, but Nick had spent over three years being told that sex was the only thing he was good for. He knows better now, but it took a _lot_ of time and it _still_ comes up sometimes. I bet it’s just like that for Blaine, too: If you don’t want him sexually, that means he’s useless to you. He’s probably just waiting for you to tell him you’re selling him or giving him away.”

“Oh god.”

“And can you imagine how much courage it took for him to offer something like that? He’s a slave. They’re not supposed to ask for anything, or initiate anything they haven’t been ordered to do. Most owners would punish a slave for stepping out of line. He put a lot of trust in you.”

Kurt whined. “Thanks, now I feel a thousand times worse than I did before.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeff said. “But you had to know. How else could you fix it?”

“How _do_ I fix it?”

“You have to talk to him, of course. Honestly. Not as an owner to his slave — just you talking to the boy you like. Tell him what you feel.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Sure you can, you’re doing great — see, you’re not even denying liking him anymore.”

“It’s hard to deny the obvious, but confessing… that’s another thing entirely. I don’t want to spook him, or make him think he owes me anything if he doesn’t like me back.”

“Of course he likes you back. He looks at you as if you hung the moon. It will be alright. You just have to start communicating properly.”

Kurt let out a heavy sigh and hugged a decorative pillow to his chest.

“Argh. Is it always this hard? Was it like that with you and Nick? Was he so hurt too? How did you two even start, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind, but…” Jeff looked at him for a moment, as if considering something. Then he seemed to come to a decision. “Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

“I… think so?” Kurt hesitated. “Unless it’s something dangerous? Or illegal?”

“What if it’s illegal but not wrong?”

“Hmm. Can I tell my parents?” Kurt was not promising anything that needed to be hidden from them. He hated lying to his dad.

Jeff tilted his head. “Would they ever hurt a slave?”

“Definitely not,” Kurt answered immediately.

“Okay, I trust you. See, I didn’t buy Nick. I found him.”

“What do you mean, you found him?” Kurt had never heard about anyone just _finding_ a slave. All slaves had owners, be it individuals, businesses, or merchants; that was the foundation of the whole system. Unless…

“He’s a runaway.” Jeff confirmed his suspicions. “Well, not anymore, his papers say he’s mine now, at least if you don’t look into it too closely. But he ran away from his last owner.”

“Was it the one where the boys met?” Kurt asked.

“No, from what I heard, that Sebastian guy was actually half-decent to them. It was Nick’s next owner that was a monster. He kept him in a basement for most of the year Nick was there. Alone in the dark for days, often without food or water.” Jeff said gravely and Kurt winced. “Nick was sure he would die there, so when he had a chance, he ran. He was half-mad with hunger and fear when I found him near my house. He begged me to just kill him, anything but return him to his owner. I couldn’t send him back to that place.”

Jeff had a pleading look on his face, as if begging Kurt to understand. Which, of course he did. He’d seen the way Nick was with Jeff, not a care in the world, a picture of a happy teenager. If not for the brand on his neck, Kurt would never have guessed he was a slave. There was no doubt that the change of owner did him nothing but good. Still, a slave running away was no small matter. If caught, they were returned to the owner who decided if they were to be put down on the spot or if he wanted to deal with them himself. Harboring a runaway could mean trouble, too. Kurt looked at Jeff, concerned.

“And your parents let you keep him?”

Jeff nodded. “My mom. My dad had died a few months before that.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

A shadow ran through Jeff’s features. “Thanks. It was a rough time. But when my mom heard Nick’s story and saw how badly I wanted to help him, she agreed to let him stay. I think she believed it would help me, too, having something other than grief to focus on. And it did. We helped each other. And love just came with time.”

“Weren’t you afraid, at first?”

“Of course I was. Just like you are now. But I knew that we cared for each other, and that I would never do anything to hurt him. With communication and baby steps, we figured it out. You will, too.”

Kurt wished he had as much confidence in himself as Jeff seemed to have in him. “Do you and Nick…” he started, but then backtracked. “No, I’m sorry, that’s your private business.”

Jeff arched an eyebrow at him. “What, do we have sex?” Kurt nodded, his ears hot. “We’re a couple of teenage boys in a relationship for over a year now, what do you think?” Jeff winked. “And believe me, we’re _both_ enjoying it. Like I said, time and communication works wonders.”

*

Over the next few days, Kurt wondered whether Blaine had been having a similar kind of conversation with Nick in the half hour that the two of them had spent upstairs that day, because all of a sudden, everything was back to normal. Blaine was smiling at him again, sweet and trusting, and no longer alternately hiding in his room or trying to anticipate Kurt’s every wish, flitting around him with nervous energy. It would be easy to settle back into this comfortable dynamic and avoid the risk of messing the careful balance between them, but Jeff was right: it wasn’t fair to Blaine to leave things unsaid. Kurt owed it to him to explain, if only so that Blaine understood what happened last week. Communication, right?

It had to be done, and soon, before Kurt lost the little bit of courage his conversation with Jeff gave him, but wow, was it hard to start. Even the thought of confessing his feelings made Kurt’s hands sweaty and his breathing pick up.

It was Thursday again, exactly a week after the little scene in Kurt’s room, when he decided it was now or never. They would have the house to themselves for at least two hours after he came home, and while he had nothing planned that would require the privacy of an empty house, he really didn’t want anyone to overhear or interrupt him during this particular conversation.

Driving home after Glee, Kurt had a sudden urge to stop by the florist and buy a bouquet of flowers for Blaine, like he would for a date. But this wasn’t a date, and buying flowers for a slave was one of those things that even the most open-minded people like his parents would find unusual. So Kurt filed the idea away with other things he wanted to be able to do one day, and drove straight home.

Blaine greeted him by the door with a smile on his clean-shaven face. He had taken to styling his hair the way Kurt liked lately, and his new clothes, neat and pressed, fit him perfectly, showing how much he’d improved since November. He looked so beautiful in the warm light of the hallway lamp that Kurt’s breath hitched.

Yes. He was as ready as he would ever be.

“Hello, Kurt,” Blaine said, reaching to take his coat. “Would you like some tea? It must be cold outside.”

“No, thank you. Not today. But I’d like to talk to you if you don’t mind.” It came out breathless and Kurt took a few steadying breaths while taking off his boots. When he looked up again, Blaine’s eyes were wide and scared, his smile gone, and Kurt hurried to add, “It’s nothing bad, I promise!”

It didn’t seem to soothe Blaine’s nerves, but he schooled his face into a pleasant expression. “Of course. Where should we talk?”

“Um, my room?” That was how Kurt had planned it, aiming for the familiar, private setting, but now he was having doubts already. Would it send the wrong message? Was it too suggestive? He swallowed and shook off the nerves before he could talk himself out of this altogether.

Kurt walked towards the stairs with Blaine following silently two steps behind. When they entered his room, he sat down in his desk chair. Blaine stopped awkwardly by the foot of the bed.

Kurt took a shaky breath. “Sit down, please.”

Blaine perched on the edge of the bed, facing Kurt, his expression clouded with worry. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked quietly.

“No. Of course not, I just wanted to talk about… um. Last week, when you were here.” It had gone so much smoother in his head when he practiced it.

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up, understanding dawning. “Oh! Do you want me to—?” He was already reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

Kurt hurried to stop him. “No! No, thank you.” He didn’t miss the hurt flashing over Blaine’s face this time. God, he was messing up again. With a steadying breath, he started. “Blaine, I’m so sorry I made you feel bad last week. Do you know why I asked you to leave the room and get dressed?”

Blaine nodded slowly. “Because I’m not attractive to you and you don’t want me to service you.”

Kurt’s heart squeezed painfully. “No, I don’t want you to service me, but that’s not because I don’t find you attractive. Because I do. You’re beautiful, Blaine.” Blaine’s breath caught in his throat in a tiny gasp. “But I didn’t take you home to be a sex slave, remember? It’s not your duty to service anyone here. You don’t have to do this ever again.” He paused for breath and added, “And besides…”

“Kurt?” Blaine asked after a moment, when silence prolonged uncomfortably. He seemed to be hanging on Kurt’s every word.

“I… I’ve never been with anyone like that, Blaine,” Kurt said, blushing to the roots of his hair. “I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

He saw realization dawn on Blaine’s face, part surprise, part excitement. “Oh! I could teach you!” he blurted out.

“No,” Kurt said firmly. “I don’t want this – not like that.”

Blaine’s face fell, and Kurt got up and sat next to him on the bed instead, keeping enough distance to avoid crowding him.

“Blaine,” he said, making sure to hold eye contact, his heart pounding in his chest, “When I look at you, I don’t see a slave that I could use for pleasure. I see a beautiful, kind, intelligent boy. A boy I would like to get to know better. Go out with. Hold his hand.” Kurt broke off, mortified by his own boldness.

Blaine stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, incredulous. “Oh,” he breathed, and slowly, slowly, slid his hand over the bedspread until it was halfway between them, open palm up.

*

Blaine’s hand was dry and cold under Kurt’s hot, sweaty one, and Kurt had a momentary urge to wipe his palm on his pants and apologize, but Blaine didn’t seem to mind. He was looking at Kurt as if he didn’t quite believe this was real. Frankly, Kurt felt like he should pinch himself to make sure, too.

Then Blaine’s fingers curled around his and that was it, they were holding hands – for the very first time, Kurt was handing hands with a boy he liked, and it was everything he dreamed of and more, because it was Blaine, and he never expected this to feel like so much.

Still, Kurt had to make sure they were on the same page. He squeezed Blaine’s palm lightly.

“It’s just… Blaine, I don’t want you to think that you have to do this, or that you owe me anything just because I like you.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up. “You like me?”

“Of course I like you. Isn’t that what I just said? But that doesn’t have to change anything. I don’t want you to feel obliged if you don’t feel the same way, or–”

“I _do_.”

“Really?” Kurt grinned so wide he felt the strain in his cheeks.

“I care about you very much,” Blaine said, lowering his eyes shyly. “And not just as a wonderful master. I… I like you too, Kurt.” He looked a little dazed with it. “And it’s… different. I’ve never felt like this before.” He chanced a glance at Kurt from beneath his long eyelashes. “I talked with Nick and he said that it’s okay, that slaves can feel it too, the l–… um, affection. That it’s a good thing, but it’s not okay to force it on you. I’m sorry if I tried to force it on you last week, Kurt.”

“Oh, no, honey. It’s okay, you did nothing wrong. But let’s not go there again, okay? You really don’t have to do that anymore. And I’m nowhere near ready to see you naked,” Kurt blushed and lowered his eyes to their joined hands. “Like I said, I haven’t even kissed anyone yet.”

“Me neither.”

Kurt’s head snapped back up, his eyes widening incredulously. Blaine faltered.

“Um… Not like in the movies, at least? On the lips? I mean, I did other things with my mouth, but…” he broke off, looking slightly panicked by Kurt’s silence.

Kurt’s free hand moved of its own volition, cupping Blaine’s cheek and stroking his thumb feather-light across Blaine’s cheekbone. “No one ever kissed you?” he asked softly.

Blaine shook his head minutely, his eyes never leaving Kurt’s. “It’s not something people do with pleasure slaves, Kurt.” His breathing was picking up and Kurt squashed the urge to lean in and kiss those perfect pink lips right then and there. The last thing he wanted was to push Blaine into anything sooner than he was ready. Especially when he had no idea what Blaine was actually ready for – or himself, if he was being honest.

Instead, Kurt stroked Blaine’s cheek once more before withdrawing his hand and scooting back on the bed until he was sitting cross-legged in the middle. He tugged at Blaine’s hand to follow suit. Once they were face to face, Kurt asked, “Would you tell me more about yourself? I’d like to get to know you better.”

Blaine shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I grew up in a servant house of a big mansion, among other slaves. I never knew my mother, she died in childbirth.” Kurt squeezed his hand and Blaine squeezed back with a sad little smile. “I had an older brother who took good care of me while our father worked, but he was sold into hard labor when I was six.” A flash of pain ran through Blaine’s features and Kurt chose not to ask. The past tense Blaine used and the fact that typically only the toughest slaves survived more than five, let alone ten years in hard labor, told him all he needed to know. A teenager must have had no chance.

Blaine picked up his story after a beat of silence. “After that, I was mostly on my own, but the owners were good to us and the other slaves made sure I was fed and clothed. I started helping in the kitchen when I was ten, and I thought I would be kept there as a household slave. The owners liked me, and they enjoyed it when I sang.” Blaine smiled at a sweet memory. “I used to dream I could become an entertainment slave, spend my life singing and dancing. But that didn’t happen, of course. When I was twelve, my first master saw me when I served food at a party, and asked to buy me as company for his son.”

“Reggie Salazar,” Kurt said, his eyes pulled to the brand on the side of Blaine’s neck.

“Yes.”

“Was Rick nice to you?” Kurt asked, although he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer. But Rick was only thirteen then, basically a kid, what could he–

“He was an angry boy,” Blaine said quietly, as if unwilling to say anything bad about any of his past owners. Kurt’s heart clenched in sympathy. He’d seen how Rick “the Stick” relieved anger. Mostly on those smaller and weaker than him. Blaine shrugged. “He didn’t like me very much. But my master kept me for two years because he liked me to service him in the evenings.”

Kurt felt sick. “You were a _child_.”

“Most pleasure slaves start early, Kurt. People like that.” Blaine said it so matter-of-factly, as if he had just stated people liked to watch TV after dinner.

“It’s sick.”

“It’s just the way it is.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be this way, it’s not right,” Kurt spat out, helpless anger burning bright.

Blaine just smiled sadly and squeezed his hand.

They ended up moving to the living room to watch a movie because talking about Blaine’s past anymore felt like too much to handle. And there was no need to, anyway. It hadn’t gotten any better from there, Kurt knew. There was no need to make Blaine relive any of that; to make himself listen to the gruesome details. Better to focus on here and now, where Blaine was safe and happy, and cuddled to Kurt’s side on the couch.

*

The first time Kurt asked him to sing, Blaine looked startled and it took a while and a lot of adorably shy glances before he did, a short, sweet child’s tune Blaine said he remembered his brother sang to him. His voice was clear and beautiful and Kurt told him just that, the compliment making Blaine blush.

And then it was like the music, once remembered, never left Blaine again. More and more often over the next couple of weeks, Kurt could hear him hum or sing something as he showered or helped with household chores – bits of songs he liked, songs he listened to often on his little CD player, even songs he heard once on TV or while out shopping with Kurt. He had a great tune memory and a voice that fit a surprisingly wide repertoire, from show tunes to old classics to top forties music.

And with finding his voice again, it felt like Blaine found a piece of himself that wasn’t about being a slave, like almost everything else in his life was. He seemed happier, more relaxed – _freer_. Of course, some of it may have to do with this new connection between him and Kurt, the precious, secret knowledge that there was more between them, even though they acted like they had before most of the time, and never did more than talk and hold hands and cuddle on the couch in the rare moments when they were home alone. Kurt liked to think that he had some part in brightening Blaine’s life. But he knew that music had a lot to do with it, too.

And the more Kurt saw Blaine – really saw him, not a slave, just _him –_ the more he loved everything about him. With every giddy smile, every song, every playful discussion while watching TV together, Kurt was falling deeper, and with the middle of February approaching, an idea started to form in his head.

*

Everyone else was asleep or at least in their rooms, but there was still light visible in Blaine’s bedroom. Kurt knocked and opened the door when he heard a quiet “Come in”. Blaine was sitting on his bed in pajamas, back against the headboard and a book in his duvet-covered lap. Kurt smiled at the picture.

“Hey,” he said, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him just in case. “I wanted to ask. It’s Valentine’s Day on Friday. Could I take you out? On a date?”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “A date?”

Kurt hesitated. “Yes? You do know what a date is, right?”

“I do, but… me? A real date with you? I’m a slave, Kurt, we can’t–”

Kurt nodded. “I know, but we could still do something fun together? And we would know it’s a date even if nobody else does.” He paused and bit his lip. “I just want to spend the day with you.”

Blaine smiled at him, bright like a rising sun. “I’d love that.”

*

Kurt was just checking his reflection in the full length mirror for the last time, making sure everything was perfect for his first date, when Blaine knocked on his open door. He looked stunning as he crossed the room in his simple, well-fitted outfit, his curls neatly styled and his smile lighting up his whole face.

“Could you…?”

Kurt arched his eyebrow, seeing the red bowtie collar in Blaine’s extended hand. The last few times they went out anywhere in public, Blaine had put it on by himself as he got dressed. Half the time Kurt didn’t even remember it was anything more than a fashion accessory.

Blaine smiled shyly at his confused expression. “If you may. I like it when you put it on me. I like to feel that I’m yours.”

“Okay,” Kurt breathed, the _yours_ doing strange and wonderful things to his heart now that they were no longer just owner and slave. “Come here.”

He stepped behind Blaine’s back in front of the mirror and gently placed the bowtie around Blaine’s neck, snapping it closed at the back. He made sure it was nice and snug, tucked neatly under the collar of Blaine’s black shirt. Blaine never looked away from Kurt’s hands in the mirror, watching with fascinated focus.

Kurt’s fingers brushed the warm skin of Blaine’s neck as he straightened the collar, and Blaine shivered, a soft little inhale escaping his lips and making Kurt want to do it again, with his fingers, and then his lips. He withdrew his hands quickly, startled with the impulse.

“There, you’re all done. And you look gorgeous.” He said cheerfully. “Here, let me find you something.” He opened a drawer and came up with a lightweight cotton scarf that he wound loosely around Blaine’s neck. It covered the bowtie, which was a pity, but it served its purpose. “Just so your brand is covered when we’re inside,” he explained. “This way we’re just two boys out for the night.”

He hoped Blaine wouldn’t feel offended with the clear attempt to cover his slave status, but Blaine just grinned, touching the soft fabric. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

*

Kurt had decided that Columbus was a better place for their date than Lima – it meant that they would spend most of the evening in the car, but neither of them really minded, and the relative certainty that they wouldn’t run into anyone Kurt knew was worth the cost of gas. Plus, Kurt had found the perfect movie playing at one of the lesser-known theaters.

_Moulin Rouge_ , a love story of a beautiful pleasure slave and a free man, had been controversial and widely criticized when it had come out some years before. Now that the noise surrounding it had long died down, the movie, as beautiful as it was, had been nearly forgotten. But Kurt had loved it when he first watched it as a starry-eyed 13-year-old, and he had a feeling Blaine would appreciate it as well.

No one at the little theater looked at them twice when they bought the tickets and found their seats in the nearly empty room. Their surroundings weren’t the most romantic Kurt could think of, but Blaine didn’t seem to notice. He looked like he was trying very hard not to bounce on the balls of his feet as he looked around, excited.

They had the whole last row to themselves so once the lights went out, Kurt did something daring and unplanned: he reached across to the other seat and offered his hand, palm up, to Blaine, who took it with a delighted smile.

They held hands all through the movie, and Kurt was amazed at how intimate this simple act could be. Blaine’s hand felt so alive in his – the pulse fluttering under the thin skin of his wrist where Kurt drew little circles with his thumb, the perpetually cold fingers that grew warm under Kurt’s touch, the way Blaine unknowingly squeezed his hand when emotions in the movie ran high.

Blaine’s eyes were wet when the movie ended, and Kurt wanted nothing more than to hold him and promise that everything would be alright, that his story, unlike Satine’s, would have a happy ending one day, Kurt would make sure of it. But this was not a place where he could safely do that. Instead, he had to withdraw his hand when the lights came back on, even though he wanted to hold on, walk out of there hand in hand and never let go. But that was impossible. While two boys on a date might be accepted in Columbus, they would be risking some serious hostility if anyone recognized Blaine as a slave. And it wouldn’t be that hard to do. Even with his brand covered, Blaine didn’t act like a free man.

Dinner in a nice restaurant was out of the question for the same reason, so Kurt had done his research and found several food trucks in the nearby Short North area, which, incidentally, was known to be the most open-minded and gay friendly neighborhood in Columbus. He still didn’t dare take Blaine’s hand as they walked through the brightly-lit streets, but at least no one cared if they sat down too close while eating their tacos, or looked at each other too long, sharing warm pie and besotted smiles.

It was nearly midnight when they got home, and Kurt was grateful for his father’s idea to take Carole on a romantic weekend getaway. Explaining where they’d been so late without revealing the new, tentative bond between them would be difficult, and Kurt wasn’t ready to go there. Not yet.

Finn’s car wasn’t in the driveway either, which probably meant he was staying over at Rachel’s, and the sudden realization that he was alone with Blaine in the empty house made Kurt’s body buzz with equal parts anticipation and nerves. After the evening filled with talking and laughing and casual touches whenever they could get away with them, with the sweet kind of tension growing in between them, Kurt felt warm and happy, affected in a way that could make him careless if he forgot himself. _Not too fast,_ he told himself. _Remember what he’d been through._

They ended up in Blaine’s room, Kurt lingering in the doorway, feeling like this was the time to say goodnight, like he would on any other boy’s porch after the first date. But Blaine looked at him with bright eyes, glowing with the joy of this evening, and Kurt couldn’t quite bring himself to go yet. He took a step into the room.

“Here, let me help you with your tie,” he said, and Blaine stepped into his personal space without hesitation. He was a few inches shorter than Kurt, and when he looked into Kurt’s eyes, he had to tilt his head up slightly, the vulnerable line of his neck on full display. Kurt reached to open the snap of the collar.

He couldn’t resist the impulse to stroke his fingers along the unscarred side of Blaine’s neck again as he pulled the bowtie free, and the gasp that escaped Blaine’s lips at the touch was more distinct now, shuddering.

“ _Kurt,_ ” he breathed, and stepped even closer, and then Blaine’s eyes were glancing down, his breath quickening, and Kurt couldn’t resist. Slowly, ready to withdraw at any sign of distress, he leaned in until their lips were only a breath apart.

Blaine didn’t flinch, didn’t do anything to stop him. “ _Please,_ ” he whispered instead, and tilted his head up, closing the gap between them, the soft warmth of his lips better than anything Kurt ever imagined about kissing.

It was only a single kiss, a few seconds of contact as they pressed their lips together, Kurt’s hand cupping Blaine’s smooth cheek, and then Kurt withdrew, his breathing faster. He would love to prolong this, to keep kissing Blaine for hours – god knew that they could tonight. But he didn’t trust himself. His judgment was clouded with the wonderful evening they’d just had and the pleasure of this first kiss was already tingling in his lips. It would be too easy to push just a step further than Blaine, as fragile as he still was, was comfortable with, without even knowing. Better to say goodnight now.

With a soft kiss to Blaine’s forehead, Kurt took a step away. “Thank you for tonight, Blaine. It was amazing. All of it. I hope you enjoyed it too.”

The light in Blaine’s eyes burnt bright and happy. “I loved it.”

“We could repeat it some time, if you want?”

“Yes please.” Blaine sounded so eager and excited that Kurt had to grin.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment glowing warm in his chest. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Kurt.”

With a last nod, Kurt left the room and closed the door, so he didn’t see the happy little spin that went on inside, Blaine’s hand pressed to his smiling lips.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 19

“No, _please_ don’t stop. _Kurt._ ”

Kurt chuckled fondly into the warm curve of Blaine’s neck. “We have to, sweetheart, my family’s in the driveway.”

“No they aren’t.” Blaine tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Kurt’s head and leaned up for another kiss. Outside, the sound of the car door closing disturbed the Saturday afternoon silence. Blaine sat up on the bed, adorably startled.

They managed to hastily straighten up the bedspread and leave Blaine’s bedroom before Finn stumbled through the door, carrying four bags of groceries piled in his arms. Blaine hurried to help while Kurt ducked into the bathroom to get his hair in order before his dad’s eagle eye could catch what had been going on in their absence.

It had only been the second time they kissed like that, spread side by side on Blaine’s bed, bodies carefully apart and hands joined, lips tingling with as many kisses as they could fit in the little space of time alone. It had been the _first_ time that Kurt dared to kiss down the lovely, tempting line of Blaine’s neck, and the breathless, stunned response it evoked still fizzled under his skin.

Barely a month had passed since their first kiss and already Kurt found it hard to keep from reaching for Blaine’s hand every time they were close, from kissing Blaine good morning or cuddling with him on the couch every time they watched a movie. He wanted to shout his feelings from the rooftops. But he was still a little nervous about what his family might say if they knew, so for now, he kept it quiet and only allowed himself any physical closeness with Blaine in those rare moments when they were completely alone.

Which is not to say Kurt didn’t create those opportunities. He’d taken Blaine shopping with him a few times just for the chance to hold his hand in the car. They’d gone for walks in the first rays of March sunshine once or twice, keeping a respectable distance but able to talk without curious ears around. They visited Jeff and Nick again, and while Kurt didn’t feel ready for any kind of PDA, it felt nice to be able to sit close to Blaine, or touch him in passing, or even just look at him across the room without making sure his heart didn’t make its way to his eyes in a way everyone around could notice.

But it was never enough. He just wanted to _be_ with Blaine all the time – be close to him, talk to him, show him new things, new places. Treat him like an equal, always. Not have to care what people thought.

Speaking of new places though…

“Blaine, what would you say to going to a party with me and Finn next weekend?” Kurt asked over dinner that night. He had planned to talk about it with Blaine when they were alone earlier, but then Blaine had looked longingly at Kurt’s lips and any plans that didn’t involve kissing flew out the window.

Blaine paused with his fork in mid-air. “Me? Going to a party with you?”

By Kurt’s side, his dad looked at him curiously. Kurt hurried to explain.

“It’s Tina’s birthday party, and Santana is taking Brittany because she doesn’t want to leave her home alone at night. I thought Blaine could come too, to keep Brit company.” He looked back at Blaine. “You two haven’t seen each other for a while, it could be nice.”

Blaine smiled. “It would be very nice. I would love to meet Brittany again.”

“Mercedes says she will probably bring Sam with her, too,” Kurt added. “You don’t know Sam yet, but I think you’ll like him. He’s an entertainment slave, and he’s sweet and funny.”

Finn straightened up across the table. “Oh, I have to tell Rachel. She could take Quinn.”

Kurt’s dad nodded. “As long as Tina doesn’t mind, I see no problem with Blaine going with you. And it means we’re gonna have the house for ourselves for once.” He waggled his eyebrows at Carole, who giggled.

“ _Dad!_ ” Kurt groaned, at the same time as Finn choked on a forkful of peas.

Well, the party was a go. And they would have to make sure not to come back too early.

*

It was interesting, Kurt mused, how different people’s relationships with their slaves could be – even here, in his little group of friends. The dismissive, condescending way Rachel treated Quinn, without ever questioning it. Mercedes’ fond kindness towards Sam, her pride in his skills and natural charm. Santana’s closeness with Brittany, her fierce protectiveness clear in the way she kept her eye on her girl from across the room.

Kurt’s own forbidden bond with Blaine.

They kept it on the down low here at the party, neutral friendliness being an attitude Kurt aimed for and Blaine adopted seamlessly without a word exchanged, but Kurt wondered what his friends would say if they knew the truth. They’d all heard by now how Blaine had come to live with the Hummel-Hudsons, and apart from Puck’s occasional crude remark, they accepted that Kurt hadn’t bought Blaine to have any sort of relations with him. He suspected most of them would be more or less supportive if they learned about the newest developments though. But it was not the time to test it. Not yet.

Besides, Finn was here, and while Kurt knew his family had to learn about his relationship with Blaine soon, this was not the way to let them know. He even volunteered to be the designated driver tonight to make sure he couldn’t be tempted to drink. It would be too easy to slip if he did, especially with Blaine in the same room, so close and so lovely.

An hour and a half into the party, Tina’s new karaoke machine was the center of attention, everyone taking turns at the microphone, solo and in twos. Kurt had sang _Blackbird_ a while ago and Blaine’s stunned, affected expression as he watched had filled him with the kind of warm, happy glow that only the appreciation from those important to us brings. It was the first time Blaine had really heard him perform, other than some silly little songs hummed at home, and Kurt would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t chosen the song with Blaine in mind, at least to a degree. Now, sitting on a couch in the corner with a beaming, chattering Brittany, Blaine looked enchanted, alive with the music flying so freely here, with all the people and voices and songs. Watching Sam, Mercedes’ slave, kill _Billionaire_ in duet with Artie as if they’d sung together for years, Kurt suddenly had an idea. He put down his glass of Coke and walked over to the couch.

“Hey Blaine,” he said, perching on the armrest. “Are you having fun?”

“Oh, yes,” Blaine said breathlessly. “Everyone’s really nice, and Sam is so funny, and _Kurt_ , you were _amazing._ ”

Kurt beamed. “Thank you. How would you like to go up there and sing?”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “Oh, I don’t know if it’s proper–”

“Sam is singing,” Kurt pointed out. “I’m sure Brittany could sing too?” He looked at the blonde and she bounced excitedly on the couch.

“Oooh, yes! I’ll ask Mistress!” She was gone in a blink, making a beeline to Santana, and Kurt looked pleadingly at Blaine.

“Will you sing? Please? For me? I would love to hear you, you have such a lovely voice.”

Blaine blushed and nodded slowly. “If it pleases you… I will. For you.”

Sam and Artie had just finished their song and Brittany was at the microphone now, starting on a happy, bubbly song that Kurt had never heard before. Santana’s dark eyes as she watched her were softer and filled with more emotion than Kurt had ever seen on her before. Maybe he wasn’t alone in his feelings, after all.

Blaine took the stage several minutes later, after a quick conversation with Tina who was manning the song list. Kurt recognized the tune as the song started – he’d heard it coming from Blaine’s room more than once in the last few weeks as Blaine listened to the CDs Nick had lent him. Kurt himself wasn’t a big fan of Keane, but the song, _Somewhere Only We Know,_ was lovely and fit Blaine’s voice perfectly. Shy and a little shaky at the beginning, Blaine quickly found his bearings, the music enveloping him and filling his voice with strength and confidence. He was clearly in his element. His eyes were closed and his body unmoving at the microphone, but the nervous clench of his fists relaxed after only a few lines, the tension in his muscles melting away. Kurt listened, enchanted, and so did everyone else in the room. Blaine’s voice really was amazing.

And then a line hit Kurt right in the heart.

_This could be the end of everything_

Yes. Yes it could. Blaine didn’t know it yet, and Kurt refused to think about it, telling himself he had time, but college was only getting closer, and soon there would be no more room for pushing it away. Kurt had sent his applications to New York a while ago, half-hoping he’d get accepted, half-dreading it, but he knew he had a decent chance to get in. And then what? What would happen to this beautiful thing between Blaine and him that had only just started to blossom? His dad was already hinting that it was time to move Blaine to the garage and start training him for the job. It was only a matter of time – and not much time at all – before those hints became decisions, and then actions.

Blaine finished his song and blinked his eyes open, immediately seeking out Kurt in the group. As he got off the little platform that served as a stage, beaming, Kurt wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms and never let go. But he couldn’t, not here, and probably not tonight at all, so he just clapped and praised Blaine and smiled wider than he thought he could while worry unfurled slowly deep in his gut.

What would they _do_?

He was saved from the rapid descent into gloom by the door opening to let in another, very late, guest.

Sugar Motta was a freshman and the newest addition to their Glee club. She was part charming, part infuriating, couldn’t sing to save her life, and was apparently swimming in her daddy’s money. Tina had invited her to the party just because she invited everyone else from the club, and Sugar had spent the week frantically asking everyone about the proper dress code, inside rules when it came to Glee parties (what?), and Tina’s taste in gifts. She’d seemed so excited about the invitation that her absence had come as a surprise.

Now, she was standing in the doorway in a ridiculously short, puffy pink dress and a magenta-colored fur shrug, with a big pink bow on her headband, and holding a rhinestone-studded black leash, at the end of which…

Tina’s glass shattered on the floor with a loud crash.

Kurt recognized the tall Asian boy whose thick sparkling collar was attached to the leash, even though the only time he’d seen him before, the slave had been wearing much less than the classy tuxedo he had on now. Beside Kurt, wide-eyed Mercedes let out a gasp, covering her mouth. Tina’s trembling voice was the only sound in the suddenly silent room.

“M-Mike? What are you–?” She looked at Sugar, the tears that she’d been on the verge of all evening threatening to spill. “What are you doing with him?”

Sugar finally entered the room, apparently satisfied with the effect she made. Mike stepped in behind her in silence, his eyes lowered to the floor. Sugar stopped in front of Tina and started digging in her oversized pink purse.

“You have _no_ idea how hard it is to get anything done efficiently on Saturday evening,” she said, eyes still focused on the abyss of the bag. “I had to call Daddy because they refused to do business with me, that’s why I’m late. Sorry,” she said, finally digging out a few sheets of paper fastened with a sparkly binder clip. “Aha! Here, tadaaaaam! Happy birthday!” she squealed and pushed the papers into stunned Tina’s hand.

It took Tina a few long seconds to realize Sugar was handing her the end of the leash, too. Once she did, she took the sparkly loop gingerly, her mouth open in confusion.

“Sorry there isn’t a bow on your present, they didn’t have any at the store where we bought the suit and I didn’t want to be even later.”

“My… present?” Tina choked out, her eyes glued to Mike who was looking up at her now, as incredulous as she was.

“Wait, Mike is her _birthday present_?” Mercedes asked, the first one to snap out of her shock.

Sugar looked around, suddenly unsure. “What? I asked Artie what would be the best gift for Tina. He said she wanted the slave so I bought her the slave,” she said defensively.

“I was _joking!_ ” Artie exclaimed.

“So she doesn’t want the slave?” Sugar asked, confused.

“Oh, no, she definitely does want the slave,” Mercedes hurried to assure her, a wide grin on her face. Tina finally seemed to regain the ability to move and was looking at the papers in her hand with wide eyes.

“It really says he’s mine,” she said in an awed voice. Sugar gave her a small, unsure smile.

“Of course he is. Happy birthday?”

The squeal and hug that Tina gave her nearly swept Sugar off her feet.

*

“So Mike has been a pleasure slave for rent then?” Blaine asked as they drove home that night with Finn dozing off in the back seat.

“Yes,” Kurt said. “He and Tina have been in love for months, but she didn’t have the money to buy him out of the bar so they thought they could never be together. But now they can.”

Blaine smiled happily. “They are lucky, just like me. I hope they are happy for a very long time.”

Kurt glanced at the mirror to check if Finn’s eyes were still closed, and reached across the console to squeeze Blaine’s hand. “Me too,” he said, his heart aching for reasons that had nothing to do with Tina and Mike at all. “Me too.”

*

That night, Kurt couldn’t sleep. Everything felt uncertain and fragile, and he lay in bed wide awake, envisioning life a month from now, three months, six. In his mind’s eye, he saw a letter from one of the New York schools coming – an acceptance letter, not a rejection like he’d used to see in his nightmares even a few months ago. He saw his graduation, and coming home to a place where Blaine wasn’t anymore. Going to New York alone and returning just a few times a year; only ever seeing Blaine at the garage, and even then in passing, and never in private.

He could imagine Blaine’s betrayed, shattered expression when Kurt had to tell him that he’d be leaving in August. Not yet, maybe not for weeks still. But soon. Too soon.

The thing was, Kurt had done his research. And while all of the schools he had applied to indeed allowed slaves in dorms for a (sizable) fee, he knew there was no way his family could afford to let Blaine go with him, even if they ended up accepting their relationship. Not to mention, how would Blaine be able to earn his freedom if they somehow, miraculously managed to go together? What right did Kurt have to even think of taking that chance away from him?

Kurt huffed and flipped onto his belly, punching his pillow in frustration. Sleep wouldn’t come, and he just wanted to stop thinking for now. But downstairs, just a dozen creaking steps away, there was a boy whose heart Kurt was bound to break one way or another. How could he ever stop thinking about that?

It took a long time, but sleep did finally creep in, and as it often happens, comfort came with it, in those fuzzy, soft moments of sliding into dreams, when reason and logic no longer reign supreme. _Who says it can’t be done?_ came a quiet voice of hope. _Tina and Mike were destined to never be together. Nick should have been captured and punished for escaping. Blaine was supposed to be dead. You two have beaten those odds and_ now _you want to give up because of something as trivial as money?_

Kurt fell asleep to the beginnings of plans forming in his head, intangible and abstract.

*

Morning rose cold and rainy, as if they hadn’t just had a week of truly perfect weather, and Kurt got up anxious and determined to act. How exactly he would act he wasn’t sure yet, but there was no time to waste. His mind, restless after a night of vaguely remembered nightmares about college, insisted he had to start doing something, and start _now_ ,if he wanted a chance to keep Blaine with him _._

It was Sunday and no one had any plans, it seemed. The house was full in that lazy-Sunday way where everyone lounges around watching TV, or reading a newspaper over the second cup of coffee, occasionally talking or just existing peacefully in the same space. Normally, Kurt loved those days, but today, his insides were shaking with the need to move _._ He couldn’t stand sitting still.

“Where do you think you’re going?” his dad asked, surprised, when Kurt passed through the living room towards the door, his boots on and Blaine two steps behind him.

“To the mall. They said they may have those silk scarves on sale this weekend and I didn’t have time to check yesterday. Do you need something?”

His dad’s eyes were already back on his newspaper. “You can bring one of those cheesecakes you and Carole like. And be home for lunch will you?”

Kurt hummed in assent and shut the door behind them.

The truth was, there were no scarves to check on. He just wanted to talk to Blaine in private. But as they started in the general direction of the mall, alone in the car at last, the words wouldn’t come. Kurt hadn’t planned this too well – or at all, really; he was running on anxiety and determination, and now that he could finally speak openly, he realized he had no idea what to say.

Blaine didn’t miss his restlessness.

“Kurt? Is something wrong?” he asked uncertainly ten silent minutes into the drive. Kurt chanced a glance at his worried face.

“No. No sweetheart, everything’s fine, I’m just out of sorts today.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie.

They were nearing the mall and Kurt decided they could just as well talk there. They were supposed to buy the cheesecake anyway.

“Will you have coffee with me?” he asked, and Blaine nodded, but there was a frown on his face. Kurt had _just_ drunk coffee at home.

The mall was still mostly deserted at this early hour, only little groups of shoppers milling around, and the coffee shop was empty enough to offer privacy for their talk. They ordered and settled at the table in the corner, and then there was no way to procrastinate any longer.

“Honey, I wanted to tell you something,” he started, his voice less steady than he would have liked it. He paused and took a sip of his coffee, more to occupy his nervous hands than anything. When he looked up again, the look on Blaine’s face made the breath catch in his throat.

Blaine’s pleading, pained expression brought Kurt right back to that first evening in doctor Holland’s waiting room. Kurt had sworn to Blaine then that he would never send him away – for the first time, he promised him safety and _forever –_ and Blaine had looked at him with those huge eyes and begged him not to promise him beautiful things like that.

He was looking at Kurt the same way now, clearly waiting for the axe to drop, and Kurt suddenly felt sick. What was he doing? Was he really going to ask Blaine to go to New York with him, when he had no idea how or even _if_ he would be able to make it happen? What if it didn’t work? What if determination wasn’t enough and he ended up having to go alone and leave Blaine at the garage? How would he be able to look him in the eyes ever again after breaking his trust like that?

“I… Sorry, I’ll be right back.” Kurt got up rapidly, his coffee sloshing over the rim of the cup as he put it down too fast. “Bathroom. Wait for me here, okay?” he sounded panicked even to himself, and Blaine’s eyes widened even further, but he nodded.

Kurt fled. There was nothing else to call it. He had to gather his wits and get a grip because he was acting like a thoughtless idiot and it had to stop, now, before he hurt Blaine any worse than he’d been hurt before.

The nearest bathroom had an _Out of Service_ sign hung on the door, so Kurt cursed under his breath and marched towards the one on the opposite end of the mall. He just needed a moment alone, to collect his thoughts and decide what to do. He hated that he’d left Blaine there like that, alone and confused, but he couldn’t think while looking at his beautiful, worried face.

Alone in the empty bathroom, Kurt splashed his face with cold water and stood there for a moment, looking in the mirror. He had to tell Blaine _something_ – after the opening he’d given him there was no way Blaine would believe it if Kurt said it was nothing important – but it couldn’t be about New York. Not yet, not when he hadn’t even gotten an acceptance letter, and definitely not before he knew for sure he could take Blaine with him. He had to find a way first, and _then_ ask Blaine to join him. That was the only reasonable way, how could he have thought otherwise?

But for now… he’d told Blaine they needed to talk, so how about making that talk about them, and what was between them? He could ask if Blaine would be his boyfriend. They’d never discussed it. And they could talk about coming out to Kurt’s family while at it. Maybe not today, but soon, if Blaine agreed. That was definitely a step in the right direction.

Calmer now, though with new kind of nerves buzzing in the pit of his stomach, Kurt left the bathroom. He had to keep himself from jogging back towards the food court, impatient to return to Blaine and ease his worry. Okay, so maybe the prospect of calling him a boyfriend sped his steps too. Just a little bit.

Blaine wasn’t at the table.

Kurt stood in the middle of the coffee shop and looked around, confused. The table in the corner where they’d been sitting was unoccupied, as were all the others, but both of their cups were still there, drinks hardly touched. The chattering group of middle-aged women that had been seated around one of the larger tables was gone now, and there was only a couple of college girls waiting for their order at the counter. There was no sign of Blaine anywhere.

“Excuse me?” Kurt walked towards the counter, where a scrawny, sleepy-looking barista was unhurriedly pumping syrup into a paper cup. “Have you seen the boy who was here with me a moment ago? He was sitting at that table in the corner. Did you happen to see where he went?”

The barista barely looked up at him, his voice monotone. “I ain’t seen nothing, man.” He turned to foam the milk, not sparing Kurt another glance.

The first tendrils of fear shooting through him, Kurt took a quick tour around the food court, mind working frantically. Why would Blaine leave? Did he go looking for Kurt? Did he need a bathroom himself? No, he wouldn’t go until Kurt came back.

Did he run away?

Surely not. Not Blaine. Why would he? There had to be a simple explanation of his absence.

(Except what if he thought Kurt wanted to sell him and decided to escape instead?)

(No. He wouldn’t. He knew Kurt would never do that. Right?)

Forcing himself to stop devising worst-case scenarios, Kurt walked out to the parking lot, hoping to find Blaine waiting by the car. When that plan proved fruitless, he did a quick run around the mall, casting glances into each store, his heart hammering in his chest harder with every passing minute. He checked the empty bathroom, ran back to the food court. Blaine was nowhere to be seen.

Kurt was winded when he reached the coffee shop again, hoping against hope to just find Blaine back in his chair, but while more tables were occupied now, the familiar curly head was not there. He was turning back to leave, feeling more helpless than ever, when he heard the barista’s nasal voice.

“Oy! The kid you’re looking for, he a slave?”

Kurt closed the distance to the counter in three long steps. “Yes,” he said breathlessly. “Have you seen him?”

“Man, you should have said so! There was a fuss a while ago, mall security took away an uncollared slave. Black hair, gray sweater?”

“Cardigan,” Kurt corrected automatically, relief flooding in so fast he felt unsteady with it. It was just a misunderstanding, thank god. “Yes, that’s him. But he _has_ a collar.”

“I don’t know man, just saying what I heard.”

Kurt nodded, impatient to go. “Where did they take him?”

“The security office I guess? It’s on the second floor. The elevator’s behind the GAP.”

“Thank you!” Kurt called out, already running in that direction.

It was fine. It would all be fine. They just hadn’t realized the bowtie was Blaine’s collar, they hadn’t listened to him explain, Kurt would get it all straightened out in no time. And then he would take Blaine home, and everything would be okay.

 That comforting conviction died as soon as he opened the security office door and saw the person standing inside.

“You!” Kurt spat, horrible suspicion blooming instantly. “What have you done? Where is Blaine?”

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably. “They have him in the back. You’re Kurt, right? He kept calling for you when they dragged him here.”

“Why are you here? And what the hell happened?”

“Um.” Sebastian hesitated, that gloating smile from their first meeting wiped clear off his face. Then he raised his right hand. On his open palm lay a red bowtie collar, creased from his grip. Kurt gasped. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear,” Sebastian said urgently. “It was just a prank, I wanted to make you sweat a little, but then you didn’t come and they took him away and– Kurt, I’m sorry.”

Kurt snatched the collar from Sebastian’s hand just as a security officer, a large, grim-looking man with a mustache, came in from the back room. Kurt turned to him immediately.

“Good morning sir, I’m here to collect my slave,” he said as politely as he could through the anger that choked him. “There’s been a misunderstanding. My name’s Kurt Hummel, and this is my slave’s collar.” He pulled out the little tag with his information from the bowtie’s folds to show to the man. “He had it on, but this guy here apparently took it off him while I was away for a moment.”

The officer glanced at the tag, disinterested. “I’m sorry, but we can’t release your slave. There’s been a violent incident and we are bound by the law to place him in the correction facility.”

Kurt’s blood ran cold. “What kind of violent incident?”

The officer inclined his head towards Sebastian, who raised his left hand sheepishly. There was a clear, purple bite mark between his thumb and pointer finger.

“I’m fine though,” Sebastian said to the man. “I told you, I’m not blaming him. Can’t you release him and we’ll just forget about it?”

“Law is law, young man. And I can’t release a violent slave without making sure his behavior is properly corrected. Where would it lead us if we just let rabid slaves roam around?”

Kurt ground his teeth so hard it hurt, trying not to snap at the officer. It would do neither him nor Blaine any good. “Can I see him at least?” he asked.

“No. No one can interact with a slave in custody but trained personnel. Besides, he’s just about to get a ride to the facility.”

Kurt lost it. “You can’t do this!” he exclaimed. “He did nothing wrong, he’s the kindest, sweetest boy you’ll ever meet! You can’t take him away!”

The officer looked at him with something akin to pity and took out a sheet of paper from a drawer. “Tell you what. Fill in this form so that we can put him into the system, and when you’re done, I’ll give you the address of the facility. You can try to talk to them.”

Filling in the information sheet and waiting for the man to enter the data into the computer took ages, but then finally Kurt was out of the stuffy room, a post-it note with an address clutched in his hand. Sebastian followed him out of the office.

“Kurt, I’m _really_ sorry. It wasn’t supposed to–”

_Thwack_

Ow. No one had told Kurt punching someone in the face hurt so much. But it was satisfying nonetheless.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he yelled. Sebastian was holding his cheek, but wisely not saying a word. “He’s been through _hell._ He’s only just started getting better. You have _no idea_ –”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sebastian whined.

“I don’t care. You’re going with me and you’re gonna fix it. Or I will sue your ass.”

Without looking back, he marched towards the elevator. After a few seconds he heard Sebastian falling in step behind him.

*

The drive passed in tense silence. Sebastian sat in the passenger’s seat of Kurt’s car, looking out the window without a word, a bruise slowly darkening on his jaw.

The slave correction facility was located fifteen miles out of town. It looked like the prison it was, a depressing gray slab of a building in the middle of a large empty lot, with barbed wire around and guard towers in the corners. Behind it, visible only as they approached the gates, were two rundown factory buildings. Kurt couldn’t see much through the distance and fences, but there were people in gray clothes milling around them, carrying large crates and logs at a hurried pace.

Kurt had never been here before, but he’d read an article about the slave correction system, praising the government for finding such a smart way to deal with slaves’ infractions. Slaves at those facilities had to earn their food and accommodation through hard labor, and the “correction” was achieved through strict rules and daily punishments. Kurt felt sick even looking at the place and thinking that his Blaine was supposed to stay here. 

There had to be a way to fix it.

By the time they were let in through the gate and into a small bare room with a single ancient desk, Kurt’s stomach hurt from nerves and Sebastian looked pale and more unsure than Kurt had ever seen him. The guard seated behind the desk looked up from his crossword puzzle.

“How can I help you, boys?”

Kurt let Sebastian tell the whole story – about taking the collar off Blaine and notifying a passing security officer as a “joke”, about Blaine’s panic as he was dragged away, about Sebastian’s attempt to fix the damage by claiming he was Blaine’s owner so that he could take him back to the coffee shop, and Blaine’s resistance.

“So that’s why he bit you,” Kurt snapped, incredulous.

“He was screaming that I wasn’t his owner so I tried to cover his mouth. Okay, so it wasn’t my smartest idea.” Sebastian scowled at him, but then he turned to the guard. “See, it was my fault. Blaine isn’t violent in the slightest. I should know, he used to be my slave.”

The man shrugged. “Still, we cannot release a slave who injured a free man, no matter the circumstances.”

Kurt grabbed Sebastian’s elbow and pushed him closer to the desk. “Does he _look_ injured?” The guard’s eyes went to the bruise on Sebastian’s jaw and Kurt snapped impatiently. “No, that one was me. He’s _fine._ He _told you_ he’s fine. No harm done.” Sebastian nodded fervently.

The man shook his head. “Kid, if there was _more_ harm done, your slave would have been put down on the spot. As it is, he just needs some firm discipline. You can have him back in six weeks. If he doesn’t cause any trouble, he’ll be fine.”

Kurt didn’t know what hit him harder, the “six weeks” or the possibility that Blaine could have been _killed_ back at the mall, _put down_ like a dog – but suddenly the world was spinning around him and he folded heavily onto a chair, head cradled in his hands. Sebastian was talking, but Kurt didn’t recognize the words, focused on getting enough air in his lungs.

He was still at it when a hand touched his shoulder an undetermined amount of time later. “Come on,” Sebastian said. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

Kurt shook his hand off violently, but he did get up, mind rapidly at work at what else he could say to make the guard, who had already gone back to his crossword, understand. Would it help if he told him Blaine’s tragic story, pointing out how the imprisonment would undo all of the healing? Would he understand if Kurt told him Blaine was special to him?

Even as he considered it, Kurt knew it didn’t matter. Slaves meant less than animals to most people, and he was sure this man was no different, considering where he worked.

Sebastian opened the door and steered Kurt out, hand between his shoulder blades with the least possible contact. “I offered to bribe him, but he wouldn’t budge,” he said once they were out. “But I did buy all the upgrades they have to offer, so Blaine will have a single room with a bed at least, and proper meals three times a day.”

“He will also be worked till he drops and beaten daily in the name of ‘correction,’ so yes, that’s very comforting. Don’t touch me.” Kurt roughly pushed Sebastian away and marched to his car. He probably shouldn’t drive in his state, but he had to get home, tell his father. Maybe _he_ would be able to do something.

He didn’t wait for Sebastian to catch up with him, starting the car as soon as he slammed his door shut. As Kurt sped out the gate, he saw Sebastian in the rearview mirror, standing in the middle of the empty parking lot, waving his arms wildly and calling out after him.

Kurt drove home without looking back.


	30. Chapter 30

CHAPTER 20

“Kurt, you can’t stay in bed forever.”

Kurt tore his eyes away from the ceiling to look at Carole standing in the doorway.

“I’m sick,” he rasped, his voice rough from disuse.

“No, you’re _heart_ sick, which is another thing entirely,” she said gently. “And I understand, I really do, but it’s been four days.”

Kurt turned to curl on his side, closing his eyes. “No, really, it must be some kind of virus. I have a fever and everything hurts.”

“Sweetie, you can fool your dad, but I’m a nurse _and_ a mother, remember?” There was a smile in Carole’s voice and Kurt turned his head to look at her, mortified. She shrugged. “I’ve known you’re faking all along. I’ve covered for you, because I get it – sometimes we just need to hide for a bit to gather strength before dealing with trouble. But too much of it doesn’t help, Kurt. It’s time to leave the bed.”

Kurt sighed and sat up against the headboard. “I really feel sick though. Every time I think about Blaine in that place… I can’t _breathe_ knowing he’s being hurt.” His eyes stung again, the aching tightness in his chest familiar by now. “I didn’t even manage to see him before they took him away. He must think I just left him,” he said in a small voice. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it for the last four days. “Did you know that he had an owner who used to leave him alone in a locked apartment for weeks? Blaine was fourteen. He’s terrified of being abandoned, I can’t imagine how he’s feeling now.”

Despite his dad’s intervention, nothing could have been done to get Blaine out of the correction facility before the six weeks period was over. Such was the law, and Kurt’s dad didn’t have enough clout to get it bent for them. Not for the first time, Kurt wished his father would have run for Senate when he’d had the chance. Then again, with his unpopular beliefs about slavery he would never have won, and the publicity might have put their family and the business, including the slaves at the garage, at risk. Violent attacks on “liberals” who were too vocal about slave rights were hardly uncommon.

They’d spent the rest of Sunday trying all available ways to get Blaine home, or even just get permission to see him, but all for naught. And as the hours had passed and the last bit of hope dissipated, Kurt had found himself in a dark cloud of despair.

He turned his face away, embarrassed about his tears, but Carole would have none of it. She entered the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, turning Kurt’s head towards her with a gentle hand on his chin.

“Honey, you know it’s not your fault, right?” she asked.

A little sob caught in Kurt’s throat. “Of course it’s my fault!” he choked out. “I bought him that stupid, easily removable collar. I left him there alone. I pissed off that guy when we first met. How can you say it’s not my fault?”

Carole put her warm, soft hand on his. “You did _nothing_ wrong, Kurt,” she said firmly. “You shouldn’t have had to worry about how good the lock on Blaine’s collar was, or be afraid to leave him alone for five minutes. People have their slaves running errands by themselves all the time. No one has a right to touch your slave without your permission, you know that. The only one who’s at fault here is that Sebastian boy. It’s his actions that caused the whole terrible situation. Blaming yourself won’t do you or Blaine any good.”

Kurt sniffed and reached for a tissue. His brain knew all that, but his heart was another thing.

“Thank you, Carole,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Will you let me have one last day off tomorrow? I’m not sure I can face school yet.”

She sighed. “Okay. Just this once. But you’re back to school on Monday, mister. And I expect you to be mostly over that ‘virus’ of yours by tomorrow. Your dad’s starting to worry.”

“I will. Thank you.”

She leaned in to hug him and he accepted it gratefully, even though it made him suddenly self-conscious about the state he was in. He hadn’t showered or changed out of his pajamas since Monday, and his face was still wet with tears.

By the time his dad came home from work, Kurt was curled up on the couch wrapped in a blanket, drinking tea. Things were still very much not okay, but he had to find a way to survive the next five weeks without falling apart. Blaine would need him strong when he returned.

*

“I forgot to tell you, I called that correction facility yesterday,” Kurt’s dad said over lunch on Saturday.

Kurt’s head shot up. “Did you find a way to get Blaine out?”

“No, sorry kiddo. But I wanted to check on him. They said that he’s fine and isn’t causing any trouble. That’s good.”

“Of course he isn’t causing any trouble.” Kurt frowned. “When did Blaine ever cause any trouble?”

His dad sighed, as if regretting starting the topic. “Kurt… those places are rough. If he’s good, there’s a bigger chance nothing bad happens to him there. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Oh.”

The bit of salad he’d managed to eat suddenly felt like lead in Kurt’s stomach. He put away his fork. “I’m not feeling well. I have to lie down for a bit.” He saw Carole and his dad exchange worried glances, but he didn’t stop. He needed to be alone. Now, before the tears came again.

Normally, Kurt would seek comfort in his family. But now, with so much he hadn’t told them, how could he? They didn’t know how important Blaine had become to him. They didn’t know that the only reason Blaine had been at the mall at all – not to mention, alone – was because Kurt had made a rash decision to talk to him about New York, and then backpedaled, leaving Blaine confused and probably terrified, unsure what was happening. It had been a cruel thing to do for the ten minutes Kurt was away, let alone six weeks. And it didn’t matter that it wasn’t intentional cruelty. Thoughtlessness was just as bad.

Kurt was still curled up on his bed three hours later, for the hundredth time going through everything that he should have done differently, when his phone chirped with an incoming message. He reached for it out of instinct more than interest.

_Come outside._

The text was from an unknown number and Kurt frowned at it before pressing the call button. The phone was picked up on the first ring.

“Please tell me you’re home and can come outside,” a vaguely familiar voice said before Kurt could get out a word.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“It’s Sebastian. Come on, I have something for you.” There was a smile in his voice. “Don’t make us wait.”

Kurt had never ran down the stairs so fast. It was a miracle he didn’t trip in his socked feet and fall face first down the steps. Ignoring his dad’s surprised expression, he sped to the door, wrenched it open and ran out onto the lawn–

And immediately found himself with an armful of Blaine. Kurt pulled him closer and held him tight, stroking his heaving back as Blaine shook with his face hidden on Kurt’s shoulder.

“Oh god, you’re here,” Kurt whispered, hardly able to believe it. “You’re okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you now. You’re safe.” He wasn’t sure if it was Blaine he was reassuring or himself, but it didn’t matter. Blaine was back.

“How did you manage to get him out?” Kurt’s dad asked from the doorway. Kurt looked up to see Sebastian standing a few steps away.

“My father is a state attorney,” Sebastian said. “I told him what happened and got him to pull some strings. I would have done it sooner but he was out of state until yesterday. I’m sorry it took so long. I’m _really_ sorry it happened at all.”

Kurt took a shaky breath, his arms tightening around Blaine. “Thank you,” he snapped. “Now go the fuck away.”

Sebastian nodded stiffly and got into his car. A moment later he disappeared around the bend, and Kurt hoped he would never have to see him again.

“Come on, honey, let’s get you home,” he said, and Blaine nodded and raised his head. Kurt’s breath caught in his throat.

Blaine’s bottom lip was split and his eyes were wet and reddened, with deep circles around them. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days. His dirty, tangled hair and a week’s worth of beard completed the picture. It was like a flashback to November, as though every vision Kurt had had over the last week turned real, and for a moment, Kurt couldn’t move, seized with terror.

“Come inside boys, it’s too cold to be standing out here like this.” Carole was by their side all of a sudden. She put her hand on Blaine’s shoulder to lead him, but Blaine whimpered and held tighter to Kurt.

That was enough to snap Kurt out of his shock. Keeping an arm around Blaine’s shoulders, he led him inside and into the living room. Blaine cuddled into his side immediately when they sat down on the couch, hiding his face on Kurt’s shoulder again. He was still trembling.

It took long minutes of soothing strokes and gentle words before Blaine’s breathing evened out, and even longer before he straightened up and sat on his own, no longer clinging. He didn’t say anything, just sat there with his head hung low and his hands tucked between his knees, and Kurt suddenly felt at a loss. Blaine was back home, but it felt like so much must have happened since he’d left that Kurt didn’t quite know what to do, what to say, how to react. It was no use asking Blaine how he was – he was obviously not okay. Any other questions seemed similarly callous. But he couldn’t act as if everything was normal either, could he? Not when Blaine had been through hell and back in the last week.

He was grateful when Carole approached them and kneeled in front of the couch, trying to catch Blaine’s eyes.

“I’ll draw you a bath, sweetie, okay?” she said gently.

Blaine glanced up at her and nodded. He got up to follow Carole to the bathroom, and Kurt had an impulse to protest, say it was his job to take care of Blaine, but he stopped himself. It wasn’t about him and his needs. It was about Blaine, and right now, Blaine needed someone who wasn’t freaking out and going crazy with worry. Taking the back seat for the moment and calming down first was probably the right thing to do.

Grabbing fresh pajamas from Blaine’s room, Kurt knocked on the bathroom door a few minutes later.

“Come in,” Carole called out, and Kurt opened the door.

Blaine was standing in front of the mirror with his shirt off and his eyes down, and Kurt gasped at the sight of the red and purple whip marks littering his back. There were dozens, in different stages of healing – some fresh and still raised, others almost completely faded, still others bruised yellow. At least the skin wasn’t broken anywhere and Blaine didn’t seem to be in any discomfort as Carole inspected them gently, tracing her fingers across his back.

“Thank you, Kurt,” she said when he put Blaine’s clothes on the counter. “Would you mind bringing me the big first aid bag from our bedroom? I have the antibiotic cream and the suture strips there. I’ll have to take care of Blaine’s hands after his bath.”

It was only now that Kurt realized Blaine had his hands palms up on the counter, and he winced, seeing the state of them. The skin of his palms must have blistered at some point, but now it was well beyond that, with big red patches of raw flesh where the blisters had been and his knuckles scraped bloody. Carole was inspecting a deeper cut across the middle of Blaine’s left palm. Kurt felt a little sick.

“Of course,” he said and hurried to get the bag.

When he peeked in again, Blaine was sitting chest-deep in the warm bath with his eyes closed, and Carole was pouring shower gel onto his sponge.

“Do you need any help?” Kurt asked.

“No, I’ll finish up here and dress Blaine’s hands. Why don’t you start on dinner?”

“Okay.”

He knew he really shouldn’t feel so sulky and irrationally jealous. Carole was helping, making sure Blaine was okay, and her nursing skills made her a much more adequate caretaker at this point. But she didn’t love Blaine like Kurt did. It was Kurt’s job to take care of Blaine, to soothe and comfort him. Plus, letting Blaine out of his sight after he’d only just miraculously gotten him back felt like torture, like Blaine was bound to disappear if Kurt didn’t make sure he was really here.

With a sigh, Kurt went into the kitchen.

*

Dinner was a quiet affair. Blaine sat in silence, slumped over his plate, eating little. Kurt could barely eat, too – there was too much chaos in his head with all the emotions of the day. He just wanted to talk to Blaine; to hold him and make sure he was okay; to never let him go.

The fork slipped out of Blaine’s bandaged hand for the second time in two minutes’ period, and Carole gently suggested, “How about going to bed, sweetie? You look exhausted.”

Blaine nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly and got up from the table. He glanced at Kurt, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then he turned and went.

Kurt was halfway out of his chair before his dad put a hand on his wrist. “Let him rest. You will have all day tomorrow, when you’re both less shaken. Blaine’s not going anywhere.”

Kurt sighed and nodded, sitting back down to move his food around the plate some more.

But his mind clearly didn’t accept the assurance. Even hours later, when he was lying in his own bed, his thoughts were with the boy downstairs – wondering how he felt, what he thought, what he needed. His sleep, when it finally came, was shallow and restless, so it was no wonder that the quiet knocking on his door in the middle of the night woke him up instantly. He looked at the clock: it was nearly two a.m.

He was out of bed in seconds, his heart pounding wildly. Had something happened?

Blaine looked small and fragile, hunched in the dark hallway in his striped pajamas.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Kurt asked breathlessly, and Blaine looked up at him. In the moonlight falling through the window Kurt could see he’d been crying.

“Kurt.” The whisper rushed out of Blaine’s mouth, his relief palpable, and Kurt reached for Blaine’s hand without thinking and pulled him into the room.

“I’m right here, baby. What can I do? How can I help?”

Blaine took a shuddering breath. He hesitated no longer than a heartbeat. “Remember when you told me I should always ask when I needed anything?” he whispered.

“Of course. _Anything_.”

“Could I… would you let me sleep here on the floor tonight? So that I know I’m not… not alone?”

Kurt’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. “Of course, honey.” He stepped towards the bed, still holding Blaine’s hand. “Not on the floor though. My bed is big enough for both of us.”

He should probably ask his dad first, or at least let him know, but there was no way he was going to wake him up now and risk him saying no. Blaine needed him. And frankly, he needed Blaine too.

Blaine looked too exhausted to protest. He slid under the covers and lay very still on the edge of the bed. Kurt followed suit. The bed really was wide enough. They didn’t even touch when they settled on their sides, facing each other.

“Have you slept at all?” Kurt asked, concerned.

“Yes. But then I woke up and everything was quiet and dark, and I felt like I was all alone in the whole world and I just–” Blaine broke off and took a tremulous breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t _ever_ apologize for asking for what you need,” Kurt said fervently. “It’s me who should be sorry, Blaine. And I am – so, _so_ sorry about what happened. I should have never left you there alone, I should have made sure your collar couldn’t be taken off by a stranger. I should have protected you, and I wasn’t there. And after starting a conversation like that… You must have thought I abandoned you.”

Blaine looked at him, surprised. “I didn’t. You wouldn’t do that. You promised me.”

Somehow, the trust – and knowing how precious it was, coming from Blaine – made Kurt feel even worse.

“I will never forgive myself for putting you in danger. For getting you hurt.” His voice broke, catching in his throat.

Blaine reached out, hesitating briefly before putting his bandaged hand over Kurt’s. “I’m fine,” he said softly. “The work was hard, but the punishments weren’t too bad. Just… thinking I would never see you again...” He paused, tears filling his eyes. “I thought that he did something, that I could never go back to you. And that was not… I couldn’t…” He curled up on himself, his face crumbling again.

Kurt reached for him without thinking. “Shh. Shh sweetie, come here. You’re safe now. I’ll never let _anyone_ hurt you again, I promise. I love you so much.”

Blaine went easily, scooting over until he was flush against Kurt, tucked sweetly in his arms with his face pressed into Kurt’s neck, his breath shuddering for a while before evening out. They lay in silence, taking comfort in each other’s presence, and soon Blaine’s body relaxed completely in Kurt’s embrace. He seemed to have fallen asleep again. Kurt closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him too, enjoying the feeling of having Blaine safe and whole in his arms.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s sleepy whisper washed warm against Kurt’s neck just as he was drifting off.

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”

Kurt just smiled and snuggled closer. He fell asleep with his lips on Blaine’s forehead.

*

The knocking woke Kurt up barely after seven.

“Kurt do you know where–” his dad said urgently, opening the door. “Oh”, he finished. “There he is.” He looked between Kurt and Blaine, who was curled up with his head on Kurt’s shoulder, fast asleep. “Sorry, my bad,” Kurt’s dad said and closed the door softly.

Kurt lay there for a while, blinking himself fully awake and luxuriating in the relief of having Blaine back and safe in his arms. Then he gently extracted himself out of Blaine’s embrace, tucked him in, and tiptoed out of the room.

His dad was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and an unreadable expression. Kurt poured a cup for himself and settled down opposite him.

“Dad? I need to talk to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are three or four chapters left in this story, and I’ll do my best to finish it before Christmas. I won’t be able to update next week, however. Sorry about that!


	31. Chapter 31

CHAPTER 21

“I’m in love with Blaine.”

Burt Hummel sighed and set down his cup of coffee. “I know.”

 “You do?” Kurt’s eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead.

“You two are not as subtle as you think you are.”

“And you’re not… mad?”

“Why, because you two have feelings for each other?” Kurt’s dad looked at him levelly. “I would only be mad if you were taking advantage of Blaine or disrespecting him in any way. Are you?”

Kurt scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Are you sure? You aren’t pressuring him into anything, are you?”

“Dad!”

“What? I did just find you two in bed together.”

“Only because Blaine knocked on my door in the middle of the night and asked for permission to stay so he wasn’t alone. I couldn’t have him sleep on the _floor_ , come on.”

“Oh.” His dad looked relieved. “So you’re not… you know–”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “No! Oh my god, Dad, who do you think I am?”

“A teenager?”

“We’ve only kissed a few times since Valentine’s Day – and noteven last night. I can’t believe you thought we were having sex! I would _never_ pressure him, and I…” He blushed, but pushed through. “I am not nearly ready for that myself.”

“Alright, I was just making sure.” Burt picked up his coffee cup and took a sip.

Kurt huffed.

His dad put the cup down again with a sigh. “But I gotta admit, I’m not thrilled about you two.”

Kurt nodded. “I know it’s not ideal, considering the world we live in. But Dad, I can’t help it. And you know of happy relationships between slaves and free people. Just look at Cooper and Sara.”

“Cooper and Sara are older than you and Blaine. And they met just two years before Cooper gained his freedom; they didn’t have ten years of hiding their relationship to look forward to. And even then, Sara’s family pretty much disowned her when she announced they were getting married.”

“You aren’t going to disown me though, are you?”

His dad looked at him wearily. “Come on, Kurt. Of course not. But you have to realize, it _will_ make you unpopular in certain circles, sometimes extremely so. It can put both you _and_ Blaine in danger if you act as a couple in public. Even just rumors about it may cause you problems at school, or affect your future career. You’ve got to be aware of all that. And that’s before taking Blaine into consideration.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt frowned.

“Well, how sure are you of your heart? You’re eighteen, it’s your first love, how certain are you that it will last?” The words were blunt, but Burt’s face was kind. “Because there’s much more at stake here than if you were dating a free boy, Kurt. Like it or not, Blaine _belongs_ to you. If things go south, he will _still_ belong to you. What do you do then? Do you sell him, or give him away, because you can no longer stand to be close to him?” His dad paused to let it sink in. “You don’t only hold his heart in the palm of your hand. You hold his whole life. You must be _sure_ you can handle it no matter what, because otherwise you can hurt him more than any of his previous owners did. If you’re not sure, don’t start this relationship. It’s the responsible thing to do.”

Kurt nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Dad.” He stared at his untouched coffee for a moment, and then pushed it away. “Would you mind if I went back to my room? I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“Sure. Just… don’t make that a habit, okay? And think about what I said.”

“I will. I promise.”

 

Blaine was still out cold when Kurt crept back into his room and slid under the covers.  Kurt didn’t try to hold him again, unwilling to risk waking him up when Blaine desperately needed sleep. Instead, he lay there wide awake, watching Blaine’s beautiful, relaxed face and enjoying the moment. They wouldn’t get many mornings like this anytime soon.

_How sure are you of your heart?_ His dad’s words echoed in his head. The short answer was more than he’d ever been about anything before. Yes, Blaine was his first love, and there were no guarantees, simply because life didn’t come with any, but Kurt knew that he would never, _ever_ knowingly hurt Blaine. No matter what.

By his side, Blaine whimpered quietly, his body tensing under the covers. All appearances of peacefulness were gone in an instant as his breathing quickened into panicky gasps and his face screwed up as if in pain. Kurt put a gentle hand on his wrist.

“Blaine. Blaine, it’s okay,” he murmured in a soothing tone. “Wake up, honey.”

Blaine startled awake, his eyes wide and scared.

“Kurt,” he breathed out, relief washing over his face as he slumped into Kurt’s waiting arms. “So I’m really back.”

“You are. You’re home, safe.” Blaine felt so small in his embrace; so vulnerable. Kurt never wanted to let go. But already Blaine was pulling away with an embarrassed expression.

“I’m sorry I woke you last night. I should go back to my room.”

Kurt caught his hand before he could slip out of bed. “You don’t have to go.”

“But… Kurt, what if anyone notices I’m here?”

“My dad knows you slept here. I talked to him when you were asleep.” Kurt reached to stroke his knuckles down Blaine’s cheek, still covered with dark hair. It was longer than he’d ever let it grow since November, and softer than Kurt thought it would be. He smiled at the tickle of it and looked back up into Blaine’s worried eyes, not trying to dial down the affection he felt. “I told him that I’m in love with you. He warned me it won’t be easy, if we want to be together, but he accepted it. So you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. You can stay here with me a little longer.”

Blaine’s eyebrows rose sharply. “Really?” he asked in a small voice, so hopeful, as if this was too good to be true, which was exactly how Kurt felt, too.

“Really. I could hold you, and we could sleep some more, maybe? It’s still early.”

“Oh, please, yes.”

Kurt grinned. “Can I be the big spoon?”

“The what?”

“Just… turn around? I’ll show you.”

 “Oh,” Blaine sighed happily when Kurt hugged him from behind, careful not to press too hard against the bruises on his back, and wound his arm around Blaine’s tiny waist, resting his palm over his heart. Blaine melted against his front. “Oh, I love it. It’s like you’re all around me. It feels like I’m yours.”

Kurt kissed his hair. “You are, my sweet boy. And I’m yours, too. Now sleep. You need to rest.”

 

He could happily wake up like this every day, Kurt decided some time later, as he drifted slowly towards consciousness. He wasn’t sure what stirred him awake, but Blaine was still a warm, precious weight in his arms, so Kurt took care not to move, eager to bask in this perfect moment of intimacy a little longer.

Then the slightest little roll of Blaine’s hips made him gasp and open his eyes.

Oh. So _that_ was what woke him. He inched his hips – and his very unwelcome erection – back, his face burning.

“Kurt?” Blaine whispered, sounding very much awake and more than a little awed. “You’re _hard_.”

Kurt’s cheeks grew even hotter. “I know. Sorry about that.”

Blaine turned his head to look at him. “No, but I could help you with that. My hands are useless right now, but I’ve been told I’m very good with my mouth.”

Kurt had to close his eyes and breathe for a moment, his cock throbbing in the confines of his briefs. Even when he could finally speak, his voice still came out breathless. “Sweetie, you’re not a sex slave anymore, remember? You don’t have to–”

“I know. But… I think I would like that. With you.”

Kurt swallowed a whimper and, with a heroic effort of will, moved farther away from the unbearable temptation of Blaine’s body.

“No, honey,” he said softly. “Not yet. Not like this.” He put his hand on Blaine’s cheek and Blaine turned to face him. Kurt brushed the lightest of kisses over his healing lips. “It’s very, very tempting, and I am _so_ attracted to you, but I’m not ready for that. And I want it to be special, when we decide to be intimate. Special for _both_ of us.”

Blaine frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I want to touch you, too, one day. Make you feel good. When we decide it’s time.” Blaine’s eyes widened and Kurt kissed him gently one more time. “But not yet, okay?”

“Okay.” It was no more than a whisper.

“But I want to ask you something now.” Kurt took Blaine’s hand. “And I need you to answer honestly. If you have even the slightest doubts, take your time to think about it. You don’t have to answer now, or even today. Take however long you need, or we can talk about it if you want, anything. There’s no rush.” He paused to take a shaky breath.

Blaine squeezed his hand. “Kurt? You’re making me nervous.”

“Oh, no, honey. It’s just that _I_ am nervous, because… well, I just wanted to ask if we could be boyfriends.”

In the silence that followed, Kurt could hear his own heart pounding for the interminable seconds as Blaine stared at him with his lips parted.

“Like Nick and Jeff?” Blaine whispered eventually.

“Yes.” Then Kurt remembered Jeff’s words about their sex life and hurried to add, “Except, slowly.”

The smile started in the corners of Blaine’s lips and quickly spread to his entire face until he was beaming at Kurt. “Yes! Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“But if you have doubts–”

“I don’t. I would _love_ to be your boyfriend.”

Kurt let out a relieved breath. “Thank you. Of course, we’ll have to be careful outside but here…” he broke off and pressed a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips, “We’re safe here.”

Blaine whined when Kurt pulled away, tilting his head for more, but all Kurt allowed himself was another quick peck.

“We better wait a few days until your lip heals,” he said, rubbing his nose against Blaine’s, Eskimo style. “I don’t want to make this split open again. But I promise to kiss you as much as you want then.”

 

It was shocking how normal this day felt; as if the past week hadn’t happened at all. Blaine was hardly leaving Kurt’s side – even when Kurt studied for the tests he’d missed during his absence, Blaine sat curled up in the armchair with a book, pretending to read while mostly just watching Kurt with an adoring expression. Kurt couldn’t stop glancing at him with a smile.

After lunch, Blaine asked him for help with shaving – his hands were still bandaged and stiff, and so Kurt sat him down on the stool and carefully worked the razor until Blaine’s face was smooth and soft again. The intimacy of the process felt even more striking now that they were _boyfriends_. He still couldn’t even think the word without his heart speeding up.

It was time to tell his family.

Except his dad must have talked to Carole and Finn already, because they didn’t even blink when Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine’s waist as they settled to watch a movie that afternoon. Only his dad’s eyebrows twitched up in a wordless question, and Kurt nodded, a silent _yes, I’m sure._ The answering nod was both an acknowledgment and, Kurt felt, a reminder of the responsibility he was taking upon himself. Then Burt turned back to the TV.

Blaine fell asleep with his head on Kurt’s shoulder ten minutes into the movie. Kurt shifted carefully to tuck him comfortably into his arms and spent the next hour and a half relishing the closeness, his heart full to the brim with the joy of having Blaine back, safe and whole and _his_.

Of course, hoping that everything would be easy and seamless was unrealistic.

“All right, boys,” Kurt’s dad said as soon as they sat down to dinner that night, looking between Kurt and Blaine. “Let’s set up the rules. No unauthorized sleepovers, and if you’re in a bedroom together, the door stays open, understood?”

Blaine, still looking sleepy just a minute ago, snapped to wide-eyed attention. “Yes, sir.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

“Don’t make that face, Kurt, you know it’s the same for Finn and Rachel. And you and I are going to have another talk later, too. As soon as I gather some…” He rubbed his balding head, “materials.”

Kurt frowned, but then the understanding dawned and his jaw dropped. “You mean…? _No._ No way, we’re not talking about _that._ ”

“Believe me, buddy, I’m not looking forward to it either.”

Kurt gulped.

But even the prospect of a sex talk with his dad couldn’t dampen the bliss of spending the evening stretched out on his bed with Blaine, with the door wide open, holding hands as they each read their own book and traded gentle kisses in between pages. And nothing was better than being able to go into Blaine’s room before bed to kiss him goodnight.

Kurt was back in his room and getting ready to go to bed himself when Finn knocked on his door. He came in with a hesitant expression, carefully closing the door behind him.

“Listen, do you want me to cover for you now, when you and Blaine want to… you know? Sleep together or stuff?” Finn whispered conspiratorially. He looked uneasy, and yet plowed bravely on. “Because I can. Just tell me when.”

Kurt felt strangely moved. “I think we’ll be fine. I’m not going to do anything that needs covering; not yet anyway. But thank you for the thought. If you need anything with Rachel, of course…” he broke off.

Finn shrugged. “Thanks but… Rachel’s not very… open to that.”

They both nodded their acknowledgment, equally uncomfortable with the topic, dropping it with relief. What needed to be said had been said.

“Okay, just wanted to let you know that, you know. I have your back.” Finn shifted his weight and reached for the doorknob. “G’night.”

“Thank you, Finn. That means a lot. Goodnight.”

 

The most difficult part of being in a relationship proved to be hiding it from the world. Now that they were allowed to be openly together at home, it was exceedingly hard for Kurt to remember not to reach for Blaine’s hand when they were walking outside, not to allow himself all the little affections that had become natural for them. But most of all, it was nearly impossible to look at and talk to Blaine as a slave now.

“Listen.” Santana grabbed Kurt’s arm and unceremoniously marched him aside from the picnic table where Blaine, Brittany and Sam were currently having a great time talking and laughing over their lunch, under Mercedes’ amused eye. “You’ve _got_ to be more careful. I get it, he’s lovely, but tone down the heart eyes. That old guy over there looks about ready to tear you a new one.”

Kurt looked around, frowning. Sure enough, a sour-faced bald man in an ill-fitting suit was staring at him with a furious look. Kurt shrugged.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s what _you_ think. You’re treating him like a boyfriend.”

“I haven’t even touched him!”

Santana rolled her eyes. “You’re treating him like a _secret_ boyfriend that you’re trying very hard _not_ to touch. Stop that. You’ll get us all in trouble.”

Kurt sighed. “Okay.” He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the signpost they were standing by. “Is it that obvious?” he asked after a moment. He’d told Mercedes and Jeff within the week since Blaine and he had become boyfriends, but he hadn’t been planning to tell anyone else. He’d even made Finn swear not to reveal his secret to anyone – especially not Rachel.

“Duh.” Santana scoffed, her expression softening as she looked towards the table where Brittany was practically dancing in her seat. “I get it, believe me. I do. Your secret is safe with me. But you _have_ to be more careful. Your boy is better at playing his role than you are.”

Kurt looked at Blaine, flushed and effervescent with joy and so, so beautiful, and forced his face into a neutral expression. “I know. He’s amazing, isn’t he?”

Santana just rolled her eyes.

 

It was the first week of May, rain was drumming against Kurt’s bedroom window, and they had fifteen more minutes before anyone else would be home. They had already spent the better part of an hour making out, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Not when Kurt had Blaine shirtless on his bed for the first time – all that smooth skin, Blaine’s muscles trembling sublimely with pleasure, the flush of arousal spreading over his face and down his chest as he panted and moaned softly under Kurt’s caresses.

It was so easy to get lost in Blaine’s stunned, unrestrained reactions, so easy to want to give him everything – more touches, more kisses, more attention, everything that he’d never had before. And Kurt had only just finished mapping Blaine’s bare arms and torso with reverent hands. He needed a few more hours to get his lips thoroughly acquainted with every inch of that golden skin above Blaine’s waist.

They didn’t have hours, and there was so much Kurt still wanted to do.

He mouthed at the nearest patch of naked skin, which happened to be the crook of Blaine’s neck. Blaine whimpered breathlessly and arched into him, seeking more contact. Within the last month they had perfected a position where Kurt was on top – the way Blaine seemed to prefer – but with his hips safely to the side, to avoid temptation or embarrassment. Now, as Kurt ducked down and shyly brushed the tip of his tongue over one pebbled nipple, Blaine moaned and suddenly pressed into him, frantic, his hips twisting in a desperate search for friction. The hard bulge of what could only be Blaine’s _cock_ dug into Kurt’s hip, making him gasp.

Everything slowed down then, the urgency pushed into the background for a moment as Kurt stared at the picture of perfect abandon underneath him: lips kissed red, eyes darkened and hazy with want, every move, every line of Blaine’s body showing desire, bliss, pleading for more. How many times in his years as a slave had Blaine been allowed to have this?

Slowly, deliberately, Kurt moved his hips so that he was fully on top of Blaine, and muffled a groan against his shoulder. The pressure on his aching erection made the heat coil tight in his balls, already so close.

“Okay?” he managed, and Blaine nodded fervently.

“Yes. Yes, Kurt, please, oh _yes–_ ” Blaine’s moan broke off into a shocked gasp as Kurt rocked down into him, once, twice–

And then Blaine’s cock was pulsing against his, his mouth open in a silent cry and hands grasping for purchase against the shirt on Kurt’s back. It hardly took anything for Kurt to follow, one more press and all he could do was cry out into Blaine’s shoulder and come, holding onto him for dear life and shaking with the intensity of it.

The clear-headed realization of what they’d just done came as soon as Kurt caught his breath. His face was hidden in Blaine’s neck, and he was almost afraid to look up, not sure what reaction to expect. He’d thought their first time would be different – planned and special and– okay, it did feel special, but it was supposed to be _planned_.

But then Blaine kissed his temple and sighed happily, and Kurt leaned up on his elbows to look into his honey-bright, smiling eyes.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Blaine beamed at him. He looked happy, sated and a little dazed. “That was amazing. Better than I ever thought.”

Kurt frowned. “It wasn’t your first orgasm, was it?”

“No, it happened a few times before. But never with someone else, and it never felt so good. I’m all tingly.” He laughed softly, reaching to cup Kurt’s face.

Kurt kissed his lips, just once. “Me too. Thank you for this.”

Blaine looked at him shyly. “So… is this what it’s going to be like when we have sex?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m allowed to have pleasure, too?”

“Oh honey, of course you are! Sex should always feel good for both people participating. So if anything we do is not good for you, I want you to tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?” Kurt kissed the tip of Blaine’s nose, and Blaine laughed.

“I promise.”

The beeping of the alarm set for five minutes before his dad’s return broke the blissful bubble. Kurt sat up, his heart accelerating again, but for entirely different reasons.

“Oh shhh–. We need to change.” Wincing, he crossed to his dresser to grab two pairs of underwear. There was no time for Blaine to get his own from downstairs. “Here, go to my bathroom and put these on. Drop yours into my hamper and I’ll do laundry later. I will change here.”

Blaine hurried to the bathroom, spurred on by the panic in Kurt’s voice. They had to make themselves presentable, and if Kurt wasn’t mistaken, there were at least a few hickeys to take care of… He scrambled to kick off his pants, reaching for the tissues.

 

They were in the kitchen, starting dinner, when Burt came home fifteen minutes later, thankfully held back by something at the garage. Kurt only hoped he wouldn’t inquire about the scarf tied artistically around Blaine’s neck.

But a minute later, any thoughts of hickeys flew right out of his head.

“Kurt? You’ve got mail.” His dad put a large, thick envelope with the New York University logo on the counter. His smile was huge and excited, but Kurt just froze. By his side, Blaine glanced at him curiously, then went back to peeling carrots, humming happily.

“Oh,” Kurt stuttered. “Um. Could you put it in my room? I’ll look through it later.”

He turned back to the cutting board. From the corner of his eye, he could see his dad’s expression cloud for a moment as he looked between him and Blaine. Then he nodded with a forced smile.

“Sure.” He left the kitchen, nonchalantly holding the letter with Kurt’s future inside like it wasn’t a bomb ready to rip apart the happiness they’d been building together for the last month.

Kurt slid up to his room later that night, when Blaine was busy helping Carole with the dishes. He ripped the envelope open and scanned the contents. _Congratulations, you’ve been accepted!!_ A purple folder with brochures. Information about financial aid and dorms.

He’d gotten in. He would be moving to New York this summer, to study fashion design at his dream school. His life would finally – really, truly – begin.

Kurt knew he should feel ecstatic. Instead, he just felt numb.

“So are you in or what?” His dad’s voice sounded from the doorway.

“I… I am. I got accepted.” Kurt looked up at him, cold spreading through his chest. “I’m going to New York.”

“So why do you look like somebody died? Sounds like a reason to celebrate to me.”

Kurt shook his head, frantic. “ _No._ No Dad, not yet, please. Don’t tell them yet.”

His dad sighed heavily. “It’s about Blaine, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You want to take him with you.” It wasn’t even a question.

Kurt hung his head. “I can’t imagine leaving him behind.”

Burt came in and sat heavily on the edge of the bed by Kurt’s side. “You know we can’t afford that.”

“I know.” Kurt passed him the page he was holding. “See the price for the ‘slave premium’ dorm room? That’s basically just a single with an added cot for the slave. And there’s no financial aid for slave accommodation.”

His dad whistled. “That’s almost twice as much as a bed in a shared room.”

“I guess most people who can afford to own slaves in college don’t really have to worry about money.”

“Kurt… I wish I could help you with that, I really do. But you know you’re gonna have to work to help support _yourself_ , and if you add Blaine…”

“He could work too, though. Right?”

His dad sighed and put down the accommodation brochure. “I know of a few businesses that pay their slaves like we do, but they’re all here in Ohio. I don’t know anyone in New York, and they don’t exactly advertise this kind of thing. Maybe you can find a place for him to work once you’re there, and he can join you in a few months? I can put him in the garage until then, so he can save some money and get trained.”

“But... how can I tell him I’m leaving him behind? No, I’ve _got_ to find a way.” Kurt’s voice broke slightly.

“I can ask around, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.” His dad squeezed his shoulder.

“Maybe… maybe you could talk to Jeff’s mom? She manages a restaurant chain that spreads over several states, maybe she knows someone? Heard about something?” He paused and bit his lip. “Jeff and Nick are in the same situation we are.”

Burt sighed. “Okay. Get me her number, I’ll see what I can do. And in the meantime… you really don’t want to tell anyone?”

“Not yet. Please.”

“Okay.” He stood up and walked to the door, but turned back to Kurt before opening it. “But I’m not letting you give up on college if this doesn’t work out. We’ll try what we can, I promise, but if there’s no way to take Blaine with you, you’re gonna have to go alone.”

Kurt nodded through the stinging in his eyes. “I know.”

 

The three days until his dad’s meeting with Jeff’s mom had Kurt on edge. He alternately hoped for the best and expected the worst. From Jeff’s text messages he knew that his mom didn’t have any contacts in New York herself, but she was searching through the grapevine of carefully selected friends and acquaintances to gather information.

On the day of the meeting, Kurt and Blaine had three hours to themselves in the empty house. Normally, they would use the opportunity to steal some rare moments of intimacy, but that afternoon, even the urgency of Blaine’s perfect lips and his hands sneaking shyly under Kurt’s shirt didn’t work. Kurt just wanted to hold him – as close as possible, for as long as he was allowed. The possibility that in a few short hours he would have to tell Blaine that he was leaving for New York without him was looming dark and heavy.

Blaine didn’t miss his dampened mood, but after the second time Kurt answered his gentle inquiries with kisses instead of words, he didn’t ask anymore. As the afternoon ticked by though, he grew quiet, clinging to Kurt as if he knew he could be ripped away from him.

Finally, the car door slammed shut in the driveway. Kurt was up in an instant, Blaine following him out of the room.

Kurt’s dad didn’t say anything about the visit as he entered the house, but he smiled at Kurt with a tiny nod of his head, and it felt like an immense weight falling off Kurt’s chest. He hugged Blaine right there in the living room and picked him up, twirling him around before kissing him soundly on the lips.

“Oh, I love you _so much_.”

Blaine looked at him, utterly confused. “I love you too.”

 

It wasn’t until after dinner that night that Kurt had a chance to ask his dad about all the crucial details. Carole had asked Blaine to help her with changing the sheets in all the bedrooms – Kurt suspected she knew very well what was going on – while Kurt sat down in the kitchen with his dad, cups of tea in hand, to talk.

“She’s a really nice lady, that Alice,” his dad said. “Really helpful, too, especially for a kid she’d never even met.”

Kurt nodded. “We always seem to visit when she’s out.”

“You better fix that now and go thank her personally. She moved heaven and earth to find the place, and I think it will be good.”

Kurt forced his restless foot to stop bouncing and immediately started tapping his finger against the tabletop. “Tell me.”

“Okay, so there’s a diner. Funny thing is, it’s right on Broadway, and it’s kinda famous among the theater crowd. Blaine can start there as soon as you get to New York. Right now they need kitchen help, but if he proves himself, he can become a waiter with time.”

“And they free their slaves, like we do?”

“Most of them, yeah. They mostly buy mistreated entertainment and domestic slaves, and set them free within five to eight years, depending on position. But sometimes they also hire slaves whose owners want to help them gain their freedom. Blaine will be an exception because he’ll be earning his keep working there, not his freedom. They weren’t too happy about that.” Burt made a face and sipped his tea. “I had to spend twenty minutes on the phone with the owner, assuring him that you’re not going to abuse that, taking the money for yourself. He only really believed me when I told him all about our own business.”

 Kurt nodded. “So he cares about his employees. That’s good.”

“That he does. He knows about your relationship, mind you, and will likely be keeping an eye on you to be sure you don’t mistreat Blaine. He pays well, too, so Blaine’s wage should be enough to cover the additional expense of his accommodation and food, with a little left over. But–”

“But?”

“He won’t be able to save the money this way. He won’t have the fund that would let him gain freedom in five or even ten years. You have to be aware of that – both of you. You have to tell him before he makes his decision.”

Kurt frowned. “I know but… at least we’ll be together, right?”

“Not officially. In everyone’s eye’s, he’ll be just a slave. Without the option of freedom, you may never be able to change that.”

Kurt took a shaky breath. “I think… I mean, it’s obviously his decision, but I think we can worry about that later. So much can change in the next ten years, and as soon as I can afford it, I’m going to set up the freedom fund for him myself anyway. But for now, being together has to be enough.”

His dad nodded. “I just want you both to know what you’re getting into. Okay, do you want to go talk to him so that we can finally celebrate tomorrow?”

Kurt pushed away his barely-touched tea. “Yes, I’d better do that. Can we close the door? Not to do anything… you know. Just–”

“I know. Sure, go ahead.”

Before he left to look for Blaine, Kurt stepped around the table and hugged his dad tight. “I love you, you know?”

“I love you too, kiddo. Now go, talk to Blaine. Tell Finn to help Carole instead.”

 

Cross-legged on Blaine’s bed, just the two of them, alone and undisturbed, Kurt took Blaine’s hands, stroking his thumbs over his knuckles.

“Blaine, I want to talk to you about something important,” he started.

Blaine nodded, his wide eyes concerned.

“I got accepted into college. Starting in August, I will be studying in New York.” Kurt could actually see Blaine’s heart breaking right on his face, and he hurried to add, “I was hoping you could go with me.”

“What do I have to do?” Blaine whispered, holding onto his hands like a lifeline. “I’ll do anything, just tell me.”

“Well, we’re both going to have to work in New York. Are you okay with that?”

Blaine nodded.“Of course. Will you… want me to service other people?” he asked, a tiny little frown between his brows, and Kurt sputtered.

“What? No! _No_ Blaine, of course not. You would be working in a kitchen, in a restaurant. Maybe with time, you would help with serving food, too. Is this something you could do?”

Blaine’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Of course I can, I _love_ helping in the kitchen. Oh, it would be so good to work again, to help. I will do my very best, I promise!” He beamed at Kurt, then his expression grew serious. “But will I get to see you at all?”

Kurt frowned, confused, then realized: all his life, Blaine had always worked where he lived. He reached to cup Blaine’s smooth cheek. “Of course you will, honey. We’ll be living together. We will only have one small room, but it will be just the two of us.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll live in a room with you? All the time?”

Kurt smiled. “Yes. You will wake up next to me every morning if you want to, and fall asleep with me every night, and I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time together in between, too. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes!” Blaine laughed wetly, a squeaky little sound that made Kurt’s heart expand. “I can’t believe I’ll be allowed to be so close to you!”

“Well, you’ll have your own bed, too, if you prefer that.” Blaine looked at him as if he was talking crazy, and Kurt smiled and squeezed his hand. “But… Blaine, this is important, and you have to know this before making your decision: New York is expensive, so we won’t be able to save money to set you free. Not yet, anyway. If you stay here instead, work at the garage… you’ll be free in ten years. But if you go to New York with me, it may take longer. Maybe much longer.”

Blaine shook his head. “I don’t care. I don’t want freedom. I just want to be with you.”

“Don’t you want to think about it first? It’s a big decision – new place, big new city, new responsibilities. We’ll both be busy, we won’t have much space, you won’t know anyone there at first… I need you to be sure. I want you to be happy.”

“I am sure. I am yours, my place is with you, always. Wherever you go.” The calm certainty in Blaine’s eyes was everything Kurt needed. “Are you sure you want to take me?”

“Absolutely.”

Blaine bounced and climbed into his lap, kissing Kurt with such enthusiasm they fell over to the bed, holding onto each other with matching grins.

“So… we’re going to New York?” Blaine asked giddily.

Kurt laughed, joy bubbling out of him. “Oh my god, we’re going to New York!”

 


	32. Chapter 32

**CHAPTER 22**

Now that the weight of uncertainty was off Kurt’s shoulders, the world looked so much brighter and more colorful. In just over a month he would graduate, and then it would be summer – long days home alone, outings with friends, all the time to prepare and plan. And then… and then August would come, and with it, New York and a new life, together.

Kurt’s college admission was not the only thing to celebrate, though. Just two weeks after the letter arrived, the Hummel-Hudsons were once again pulling up to the garage on a Saturday afternoon, all set for a party: Shannon, the fourth slave in the household to reach her ten-year tenure at the garage, had just been officially declared a free person. If that was not a reason to celebrate, Kurt didn’t know what was.

The atmosphere as they entered the spacious living area couldn’t be more festive: there was music and balloons and a huge hand-drawn banner spelling CONGRATULATIONS FREE GIRL in colorful glitter, spread above a long table set with snacks and drinks. Shannon was wearing a paper crown that was perched precariously on her curly hair, and she was grinning widely as she wound among her friends, chatting. By Kurt’s side, Blaine was grinning, delighted. Five months after the Christmas party and he was not the same shy, terrified boy. Jim whistled when he saw him.

“Oh my, if it isn’t little Blaine! We were expecting you months ago! Look at you, all healed and strong. Told you the Hummels would take good care of you! So when are you joining us here? We could use another pair of hands.”

“I–” Blaine looked at Kurt, but it was Burt who replied.

“There’s been a change of plans, guys. Blaine won’t be joining you. He’s going to New York with Kurt in the summer.”

In the moment of silence that followed, with everyone just looking at them with various degrees of curiosity, Kurt reached to take Blaine’s hand. Cheers erupted.

Soon, Blaine was kidnapped by Hopper, who’d been to New York before with a past owner and wanted to tell him all about it. Kurt stepped aside, watching him with a smile. It was good to see Blaine so cheerful and animated, with a healthy glow on his cheeks and his clothes fitting him beautifully. The bowtie collar was firmly in place like Blaine had insisted.

A door behind Kurt opened and he heard a shuffle and a scatter of greetings in the long hallway, and soon his eyes lit up as he saw the newcomer.

Cooper was one of the younger slaves his dad had ever owned, and the youngest to be freed, just over a year ago at barely 25. He’d come to live with them as a beaten, exhausted, half-starved 15-year-old, after his first owner had worked him nearly to death at some factory or other. Kurt had been six then, and in his eyes, the young slave looked like a gorgeous Disney prince. A gorgeous Disney prince who’d come up with the best games and activities, and played with Kurt for hours.

Cooper was also the only slave who had left the garage once he was free – he and his fiancée Sara got married right afterwards, opened a little flower shop two towns over, and were now expecting their first child.

“Sara had to stay at home, and she was very grumpy about that. The baby seems too eager to get out, and it’s six weeks too early, so the doctor makes her rest a lot,” Cooper said to Shannon now, a beautiful bouquet in his hands. “But these are for you, and she told me to hug you especially tight from her. Congratulations, girl! You’ve made it!”

“I sure did!” Shannon laughed and wriggled out of Cooper’s embrace. “I’ll go put them in water while you say hello to everybody else.”

Cooper walked into the room and his grin widened as his eyes fell on Kurt. “Oh my god, look who’s here!”

“I haven’t seen you in _ages_ ,” Kurt exclaimed.

“And who’s fault is that? Last time we were here, I heard you were busy with another slave.” Cooper winked and Kurt found himself blushing even as he laughed. Cooper had been his first crush, and even now, despite being happily in love, Kurt’s heart beat faster at that wide smile and that easy charm.

“Well, he needed me more. How are you?”

“I’m great, but _you_ look fantastic.” Cooper put his hands on Kurt’s shoulders, shaking his head in exaggerated awe. “Boys must be _throwing_ themselves at you. Damn, _I’d_ throw myself at you if I wasn’t straight and married. Come here, you owe me a hug!”

Kurt relented with a grin and a bit of a blush, and was immediately swept in a bone-crushing hug.

“Coop, have you met Blaine yet?” Shannon’s voice came from behind his back, and suddenly Cooper froze against him, his hold loosening.

Kurt turned to look between Cooper and Blaine, who were staring at each other as if the whole world disappeared around them.

“Coop?” Blaine said in a small voice, looking stunned and so very young.

Cooper looked just as shocked, stock-still like Kurt had never seen him. “Squirt?”

And then Blaine moved, with a sound that was half-sob and half-laughter, and threw himself into Cooper’s arms.

Kurt watched them, suddenly noting the similarities, connecting the dots even before Cooper said, choked up, “My baby brother, I can’t believe…” He pulled back to stare at Blaine, drinking him in with a teary smile. “Look at you, all grown up. I thought I would never see you again and now you’re _here_ and–” Cooper frowned, realization dawning. “Wait, _you_ are the new slave?”

Kurt wondered just how much the others had told him about Blaine’s history.

Arm firmly around Blaine’s shoulders, Cooper strode over to Burt who was standing with Jim in the middle of the room, watching the exchange.

“Sir? I’d like to respectfully ask for permission to have my brother move in with us. I can drive him to work every day. Or even…” Cooper’s expression grew intense, his tone pleading. “Would you let me buy Blaine’s contract from you? I’ll pay whatever you say, I’ll get the money somehow, please sir, I haven’t seen him in _twelve years_ , and he should be with _family_ –”

Burt frowned, taken by surprise. “I understand, Cooper, but I can’t pass Blaine’s contract to you. I’m sorry.”

“But sir–”

“I can’t sell Blaine because he’s not mine.”

Cooper’s eyebrows shot up. “He’s not?”

Burt looked at Kurt, who stood there, struck silent by the sudden turn of events, and Cooper’s eyes widened. “Kurt?”

“Yeah. Blaine… Blaine’s mine.”

Cooper glanced between him and Blaine, who still looked stunned and overwhelmed, then nodded slowly. “Will you do it, then? Will you let me take him home? I’m sure you are a wonderful owner, but there’s no better place for Blaine to be than with his family, right?”

Kurt felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I… I think– If he wants to… yes, of course I’ll let him go, if that’s what he wants,” he said, surprised that the words didn’t choke him. They felt too big in his throat.

Cooper reached his free hand to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re the best,” he said earnestly before turning to Blaine. “Okay. I love everyone in here, but right now, all I want to do is talk to you. We have so much to catch up on,” he said, leading Blaine to a couch in the faraway corner. “I feel like I don’t know you at all!”

 _That’s because you don’t,_ Kurt thought bitterly, and quickly chastised himself.

*

The party was in full swing now, with champagne and cake and loud conversation, congratulations to Shannon and toasts and talk about her plans, but all Kurt saw were the two men in that secluded corner, lost to the world as they talked for the first time in years. He nodded attentively, barely listening to Shannon’s descriptions of the exam she’d taken, and saw Cooper cover his mouth with a horrified expression. He winced with sympathy over the mandatory X-shaped brand freshly burned into her neck to mark her as a freed slave, and watched Cooper hide his face in his hands. He talked about college and forced himself not to stare at Cooper hugging Blaine, holding him close and tight for the longest moment.

It wasn’t fair, he knew – not to Shannon, because it was supposed to be her night, and not to Cooper and Blaine, because they definitely deserved this time together after the miracle of finding each other. But knowing was one thing, and actually losing that sinking feeling in his chest was another. It was like watching a car crash about to happen, frame by frame in slow motion, powerless to stop it. Because Blaine deserved this, what he’d never really had – his family, a home, love and safety and freedom, even without the official paper. And Kurt would never take that chance away from him. Even if it hurt.

But oh, was it going to hurt.

He wasn’t even surprised when Blaine asked, by the end of the evening, if he could go home with Cooper for a few days. The luminous happiness in Blaine’s eyes was reason enough to smile and nod and tell him he could stay however long he wanted. And if every breath hurt because of the tightness in Kurt’s chest as he helped Blaine pack his clothes, that was fine. He could keep a brave face until he was alone in his room for the night.

He could do it. There were very few things he wouldn’t do to see Blaine happy.

His family didn’t seem concerned. Over the next few days, they talked as if Blaine was coming back soon, planned as if their move to New York together was still decided. The only time Kurt’s dad mentioned the happy coincidence of Cooper and Blaine meeting like that, Kurt nodded and changed the subject as soon as he could.

He went to school. He cooked. He started the huge task of picking through his things to decide what to take to New York with him. It was too early, but he needed the distraction.

It was nearly midnight on the third night when Kurt’s phone rang, the display lighting up with an unfamiliar number. He picked it up before it could wake up the whole house, anxiety already lodged in his throat. No one calls this late unless it’s bad news.

“Hello?”

“Hey Kurt. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Blaine’s voice was warm and close in his ear, and it was like a balm on Kurt’s bruised heart.

“No, no. I’m in bed, but not asleep yet. Is everything okay?”

There was a rustle on the line, as if Blaine settled in his own bed. “Yes, it’s great. I just miss you, and Cooper said I can use his phone whenever I want to, so I decided to call.”

“I didn’t know he had my number.”

“He didn’t. I took it from my collar.” He hesitated. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay! It’s so good to hear you.” There was a self-conscious little laugh in the receiver, and Kurt grinned. “So how is it, living with Cooper?”

“Oh, it’s great! I’m sleeping in the guest room, but other than nights, I’ve been spending all my time with Coop. We’ve been talking non-stop, there’s just so much we missed out on. He took me to their flower shop, have you been there? It’s so lovely. Of course, now that Sara’s on bed rest, it’s hard to manage everything, so I’ve been helping Coop a little. He even let me arrange a bouquet today. He says I have talent.” The note of pride in Blaine’s voice was painfully sweet.

“You’re a boy of many talents.” Kurt smiled in the soft darkness. “Speaking of Sara, how is she?”

“She’s great! I like her, she’s really nice and she makes Coop happy. And the baby is so wiggly! Sara put my hand on her belly last night and he kicked it, it was so weird! And awesome. Weird-awesome, to feel there’s a little person inside.” He laughed. “I’m going to be an uncle soon, can you believe it?”

“Yes you are. Are you excited?”

“ _So_ excited. You have no idea! I had no one, and now I have my brother back, and a new sister, and soon I’ll have a brand-new nephew, too. Do you know they were going to call him Blaine? I guess it’s a good thing we met now and not in two months!”

Kurt could practically hear the beaming smile on Blaine’s face. He sounded so full of life, bubbling with happiness, and that eased the ache. He was doing the right thing.

“I love hearing you so happy.”

“I _am_ happy,” Blaine said in a soft, earnest voice. “You know, I never hoped to have this. Slaves don’t get much time with their families. The first ten to twelve years if we’re lucky, usually not even that. So being allowed to spend time with my brother, the one constant from my childhood… It’s such a gift. I know it may not feel like much to you, but it’s just– I though I lost him, you know? I was sure he must be dead by now.”

Kurt throat felt tighter again, but he swallowed through it. “I know. I understand. Believe me, I’m not one to take family for granted.” He took a breath, hoping Blaine couldn’t hear how shaky it was. “You can stay with Cooper however long you want, okay? Enjoy your family.”

“Thank you, Kurt.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence, with only the sound of breathing in the receiver, and if Kurt closed his eyes, he could almost imagine Blaine was right there beside him, within reach. He could fall asleep like this.

Then Blaine yawned, and Kurt laughed fondly. “Time to sleep. Thank you for calling me.”

“Can I call you again?”

“Any time you want.”

“’Kay,” Blaine murmured sleepily. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

It was easier to fall asleep that night.

*

Blaine called every night after that, just to talk about his day – what he’d done with Cooper, new places he’d seen, new people he’d met, the stories he’d heard about his family and his childhood and Cooper’s life. And every single time, he sounded happy – and that was what helped Kurt most.

He’d bought Blaine only so that he could help him, make his life better, right? And what better way to do that than reuniting him with his loving family? Cooper and Sara were great people; they would take good care of Blaine, Kurt was sure of it. And they probably wouldn’t mind him seeing Kurt every now and then, whenever Kurt visited from New York. It was too much to hope to keep their relationship alive long-distance, but Kurt would try. He had to try.

It was surprising how little he’d cried over the eight days that had passed since Blaine had left to stay with Cooper, but all that was happening felt like fate; like he’d fulfilled his role in Blaine’s life. Anyone else, Kurt would have fought tooth and nail for Blaine. But this was Blaine’s family. This was bigger than Kurt.

Still, he couldn’t really focus on anything else. Thankfully, it was merely a week until graduation, and in the general chaos, no one paid much attention to Kurt’s distracted state.

On day nine, Cooper’s phone number flashed on Kurt’s display earlier than usual. He’d only just finished cleaning up after dinner, and barely got to his phone in time, already smiling at the prospect of hearing Blaine when he picked up.

“Hey honey,” he said into his phone, breathless after running up the stairs.

“Well hello baby.” Cooper’s voice in the receiver was warmly amused, and Kurt blushed.

“Oh. Sorry, I thought it was Blaine.”

“Obviously.”

“Hi, Cooper. Is everything okay?”

A car door closed in the background, and Cooper said, “Perfectly fine. I’m about to bring my baby brother home to you. Is now a good time? Because I don’t think he can wait a minute longer.”

Kurt lost his breath for a moment. “Home? You mean… he’s coming back here? To stay?”

“Yeah. Turns out I was mistaken,” Cooper said. “He already has a home, and it’s with you. He doesn’t need me to rescue him. So, is now okay?”

“Yes. Yes, definitely, I’m here.” _Blaine was coming home._

“Great. See you soon.”

The car pulled up to the house twenty three minutes later, and Kurt was out on the porch before he even heard the car door shut. Blaine had a little suitcase that Kurt didn’t recognize, and a radiant smile on his face. If it wasn’t for their nosy neighbors watching from their balcony, Kurt would have run to him and pulled him into a hug right there. He barely kept his legs from moving as it was, waiting for Blaine to come to him instead.

Cooper was two steps behind him, his own smile wide and bright, but before Kurt could take a step aside to let them both in, he raised his hand. “I have to go, keep Sara company, so I’m only dropping this one off here. Do you think he could visit us some more before he goes to New York?”

Kurt’s jaw fell a little. “Of course! Any time he wants.” He looked at Blaine. “You’re still coming to New York with me?”

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course I am.”

“But… your family?”

“My family will still be here, and I’m sure you will let me be in contact with them, won’t you? Cooper got me a phone, and I can write letters, and we will visit sometimes, right?”

“Of course.”

“They have each other. And I am yours. Cooper understands.”

Cooper nodded. “I do. And Kurt… I don’t think I can ever thank you enough. For saving my little brother, and for making him this happy.”

Kurt could only nod, unsure what to say. Blaine was back. And he was still Kurt’s. They still had a future together.

*

One hot Wednesday afternoon in early July, Blaine left Cooper’s flower shop at five sharp and nearly skipped down the short paved path to Kurt’s car, his face split in an elated grin.

“You know what? Cooper says it’s my birthday tomorrow!” he said as soon as he settled in the passenger seat.

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up. “It is?”

“Yeah. I’ve always wondered. I mean, I kind of remember it being in the summer from when I was little, but no one has ever celebrated it since Coop was sold, so I wasn’t sure when. And he says he’d never forget because it was two sevens, so he’s sure it’s tomorrow.” He bounced in his seat a little, excited. “Do you know how rare it is for a slave to know exactly when they were born? I know it’s silly, but it makes me happy.” He smiled shyly, and Kurt squeezed his hand briefly, unable to hug him while parked on a busy street.

“That’s not silly, that’s amazing! We have to celebrate. You’re turning eighteen!” He was already picking a number in his phone. “Dad?” he said as soon as his call was answered. “Dad, it’s Blaine’s birthday tomorrow.”

His dad hummed. “Is it? Great, that means a party at the garage this weekend. I’ll tell the guys, and we’ll talk about the details tonight.”

Talk they did, Blaine flailing adorably between wild excitement and timid embarrassment about having a whole event planned for him, but while the party was shaping up to be nice, Kurt didn’t feel satisfied as he excused himself to go to bed before ten. He needed to do _more_ ; wanted to give Blaine something _special,_ something better than a party and a physical gift. If he’d known earlier, he would have time to plan something romantic, a date disguised as something innocent, a special outing, _something._

What could he surprise Blaine with to pamper him a little? How could he get it organized in merely a day? What would Blaine enjoy?

An idea brewing, he glanced at the clock and picked up his phone. He hoped she wouldn’t be asleep yet.

*

“Kurt, what is this place?” Blaine asked with awe after Kurt opened the back door with the keys Sugar handed him this morning and led Blaine in through the wide, marble-laden hall.

“It’s a friend’s guest house. Her parents are on vacation now, and they only use it occasionally anyway, so she lent me the keys for a few hours. I wanted to surprise you,” he admitted, still not quite sure if the idea was brilliant or terrible.

“Surprise me… with a house?”

“No, silly. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Taking Blaine’s hand, Kurt led him through a decadent living room with a huge fireplace, down a short flight of steps, to the back of the house, where a set of glass doors revealed a large tiled room filled with sunlight reflecting off the blue water of a small swimming pool. Blaine stepped in and looked around with wide eyes, breathing in the chlorine-scented air.

“I know how much you like water, and you said you’ve never been to a pool,” Kurt said nervously, babbling to fill the silence. “But I couldn’t really take you to a public one, because all the ones I know don’t allow slaves, and Sugar told me about this place once, and the windows face the garden so no one will see, and… I don’t know, do you hate it? Tell me if you hate it.”

Blaine finally looked at him, his expression both excited and nervous. “I love the idea but… you know I can’t swim, right?”

“I’ll teach you if you want,” Kurt hurried to say. “Come on, there’s supposed to be a little lounge somewhere here to change. I have swimming trunks for you. And later we’ll have a little picnic in the private garden.”

His plan soon turned out to have one major flaw. The pool was designed more for swimming laps than splashing around, and 8 feet deep throughout. As much as Blaine enjoyed being immersed in water, he clung tightly to the edge at all times, terrified with the depth beneath his feet. Kurt’s attempt at getting Blaine to hold onto him instead ended with panicked flailing and both of them half-drowning due to Blaine’s desperate attempt to hold onto the only solid thing within reach. It took Kurt a long while to calm Blaine down afterwards, and he didn’t even think about getting him back into the pool anymore.

Okay, so that was a total fail.

Unless…

Kurt got to his feet and took Blaine’s hand, still a little shaky. “Let me show you something and tell me if that would be better.”

Blaine nodded and scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry, Kurt, I just–”

“Don’t apologize, it’s my fault. I haven’t thought it through. But I may have a better idea.”

He led Blaine to the open door at the opposite end of the pool. Inside the small, black-tiled room, a large jacuzzi gleamed, complete with mood lighting around it and a collection of little bottles of bath foams. Yes. That should be a much safer option. Kurt chose not to think about the fact that his innocent plan of just swimming with his boyfriend was turning into something much more… intimate.

They would be keeping their swimwear on, of course.

Kurt busied himself turning on the water and figuring out the controls on the jacuzzi, trying to get his train of thought under control. In the last two months, they hadn’t gone any further than the rushed, clothed grinding against each other, and even that they’d only managed a couple of times. Kurt couldn’t deny that his libido was becoming a problem. He had a stunning, perfectly eager boyfriend, and more and more he had to remind himself that he should go slow.

It didn’t help that when he looked up, that stunning boyfriend was almost naked, with droplets of water still clinging to his skin and dripping from his hair. In the low lighting, Blaine’s eyes looked golden and his long eyelashes threw dramatic shadows on his cheeks.

Kurt silently cursed himself for buying Blaine a speedo instead of any reasonable swim shorts. Preferably baggy and knee-length.

“Okay,” he said aloud, aiming for cheerful and not at all turned on. “The water should be the right temperature, I think. Hop in.” He reached out to Blaine, to steady him as he climbed the three steps and stepped into the foam that smelled of sandalwood.

Blaine moaned as he immersed himself in the warm, bubbling water. “No offense, but I like this a _lot_ more than the pool.”

“None taken,” Kurt laughed.

“Aren’t you going to join me?”

“I… yes, of course.”

The water really was lovely – warm and fragrant, with the bubbles massaging the tension out of Kurt’s  muscles and the foam hiding the beginnings of his uncontrollable reaction. It felt great just to relax, stretch out and melt into the comfort. They stayed silent for a while, just enjoying it, their hands brushing against each other underwater.

“One day, we’ll have a tub like this in our apartment,” Kurt murmured after a while, not opening his eyes.

Blaine hummed, reaching to intertwine their fingers. “I like that you say _our_ apartment.”

“Yeah?”

“I like it when you think about your future and see me there.”

Kurt turned to him. “I always do.”

“Really?” Blaine’s face was open and earnest, flushed from the heat and lovely in the warm light, and Kurt just had to kiss him. He pulled on his hand until Blaine scrambled closer – even closer than Kurt intended, getting right into his lap on the wide jacuzzi seat. Kurt wasn’t going to complain.

“Really,” he whispered against Blaine’s lips in between kisses, then dropped his head to trace the drops of water on his neck with his tongue. Blaine moaned and arched against him, and Kurt gasped when he felt Blaine’s erection press against him.

“Oh god,” Kurt moaned, his own cock hardening quickly. “Please don’t tempt me like that. I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Blaine leaned in to whisper in his ear. “What if I don’t want you to stop yourself?” He groaned when Kurt’s hips bucked up, their cocks pressing together for a moment, and Kurt kissed the sound off his lips. He pulled away breathless.

“What do you want me to do?”

Blaine whimpered. “Just… touch me? I’ve been dreaming of your hand on me for so long, Kurt–”

Kurt’s body reacted before his brain even gave permission, and the feel of Blaine’s thick length through his tight trunks was almost too much – and not enough. He flipped them, turning Blaine and setting him down on a higher seat, where the water barely covered his thighs.

Blaine whined when Kurt stroked him through the fabric. “Not… not like that. I want to feel your skin, can you–? Please.”

Their lips collided when Kurt rushed forward, desperate to feel him closer. He didn’t look down as his hands fumbled to push Blaine’s trunks down over his erection, but then his hand closed around the hot, silky skin of Blaine’s cock and Kurt froze, his heart hammering in his chest. He moved his hand, just slightly, and Blaine moaned into his mouth, and that was it, Kurt had to _see_.

He’d braved porn sites a few times; he’d seen other men’s cocks if only onscreen, and it was always a little scary and a lot awkward. But this wasn’t scary at all – just hot as hell; the pink head of Blaine’s cock disappearing in the channel of Kurt’s hand only to appear again, the powerful feeling of holding Blaine’s pleasure literally in the palm of his hand, the gorgeous view of his beautiful boyfriend with his head thrown back, water droplets sliding down the long line of his throat, his face stunned and delighted.

No, it wasn’t scary in the slightest.

Kurt kept moving his hand, but the drops of water on Blaine’s golden skin were calling to him, and he leaned in to lick them off, kissing a warm path down from Blaine’s collarbone, through his pebbled nipple, down the flat pane of his stomach where his muscles were tensed with anticipation. Down, down to his bellybutton, down where the soft hair of his happy trail tickled Kurt’s lips – and then it was just a matter of millimeters, and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing the wet, salty tip of Blaine’s cock.

The response he got, the frantic jumble that contained his name and _please_ and several other half-broken words, was enough to tell him that Blaine had absolutely nothing against the direction this was going.

And Kurt was not going to back off.

He slid his mouth lower, taking only the head of Blaine’s cock in, tasting water and precome and just a hint of the bath foam, the skin silk-soft and smooth against his tongue. He swirled his tongue around, enjoying the sensation, before moving his head in sync with his hand. There was no way he’d be attempting anything pornstar-like anytime soon, but this seemed to be more than enough for Blaine who shook and cried out and tangled his hand in Kurt’s hair after only a few strokes, his voice frantic.

“Kurt, I’m gonna–”

Kurt pulled away quickly, not quite ready for more than this yet, and with a final stroke of his hand Blaine was coming, strings of white release shooting over the water and across Kurt’s chest, and this _shouldn’t_ be so hot. But Blaine’s face, his voice breaking over Kurt’s name, his hand still in Kurt’s hair, tightening as he got lost in his pleasure – it was too much. Kurt reached to squeeze his own cock, overwhelmed, but it was too late – the pressure only heightened the desperate need gathering in his balls, and then it spiked, and Kurt came in his own swim shorts, his head falling onto Blaine’s shoulder to muffle his moan.

They came down from their high slowly, smiling dopily at each other. At some point Blaine pulled his trunks back up and slid into the water to embrace Kurt and they stayed like that, chest to chest in the tub, kissing and catching their breath, not saying anything.

Then–

“Ew, okay, the water is officially gross now,” Kurt groaned, and the afterglow was over.

But the afternoon wasn’t, and a romantic picnic in a secluded garden turned out to be a perfect follow-up. Lying on the grass at sunset, kissing Blaine, Kurt knew: this was what he wanted for them, one day. The right to just be together like this, without hiding; to just enjoy the normalcy of what most people took for granted.

“Best birthday ever,” Blaine sighed happily before they slipped out of the house and resumed the carefully maintained master/slave personas for the world to see.

And secretly, Kurt promised himself that this was only the beginning. He would make sure Blaine’s birthday would be perfect every year. He had so many wasted years to make up for, after all.

*

The little dorm room was not designed for so many people.

Kurt’s family decided to make a trip out of the boys’ move. All five of them crammed into the extended cab pick-up truck Burt borrowed from a friend, packed all the boxes and bags, and drove to New York. Cooper had wanted to go too, but between the flower shop and the new baby, there was no way he could leave even just for two days. So he’d just hugged Blaine for the longest time, made Kurt promise he would take good care of him, and waved goodbye.

Currently Finn was sitting on the edge of the bed, bouncy about the promised pizza outing before heading back home in the morning, Carole was fussing over the lack of wardrobe space, and Kurt’s dad was standing in the middle of the crowded room, looking a little lost and a lot determined not to show it.

“Okay guys, time for us to go, I think,” he said finally and turned to Kurt and Blaine. “Take good care of each other, do you hear me?” They both nodded, and Kurt knew the clench in his chest would have been nearly unbearable if he didn’t have Blaine here – his love, his boy, his piece of home.

“I’ll call you every day,” he said wetly.

His dad laughed. “No you won’t. And that’s okay, once a week is good enough. Call us if you need anything, okay? Anything at all. And… it’s okay if it’s hard at first. Change is hard. You can always talk to us, and to Cooper.”

He looked at both of them until they nodded, and then pulled them both into a tight hug. More hugs, a few tears and five minutes later, the door closed behind Kurt’s parents and Finn, and the room was suddenly empty, silent – and theirs.

Kurt reached out his hand, and Blaine took it, and they stared at each other, grinning despite how overwhelming everything felt. They were in New York, and they were together.

The rest of their life was officially starting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one more chapter left, and I'll be posting it on Monday :)


	33. Epilogue: New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is – the final chapter.
> 
> I might have taken the words “the grand finale” a little too literally: this baby is almost 12 000 words long. Make sure to have snacks at the ready. And wine or other celebratory beverage of choice. Because it’s time to celebrate. Yay finished stories! :D
> 
> Please take a moment to appreciate Captain Pihkal, who came up with this wonderful story and graciously allowed me to adopt it, and my tireless beta, nachochang, who read through the 55 000 words I’ve written in this fic, whipping it into shape, correcting my misconceptions and being my personal specialist in all things American.
> 
> Thank you for reading on and accepting me as the second author, and for every comment, review and word of support. They meant the world <3

**YEAR 1**

Kurt climbed the last flight of stairs with difficulty and dragged his feet down the interminable corridor of his dorm building, trying to blink the exhaustion out of his eyes. It was barely past eight p.m. and he still had so much to do tonight, but right now, he desperately needed another coffee to keep him going. Finals weren’t over yet, and that, combined with his brand new internship at _Vogue,_ meant that Kurt hadn’t had time to sleep more than four hours a night all week. He’d closed his eyes on the subway just for a couple of minutes, and the exhaustion hit him like a freight train, leaving him cold and shaky. Everything around him had that unnerving air of unreality.

Finally he got to his door – but the key, Kurt realized, was still in his bag where he’d deposited it while rushing out the door that morning, buried somewhere under his books, folders and sketches. Digging it out seemed like such an insurmountable task, he felt like crying. His head thumped heavily against the door. Just for a minute. He’d find that damn key in a minute.

There was a click of the lock and the door opened, making Kurt lose his balance. He fell forward, too slow to react in time, and found himself right in Blaine’s sure, strong arms.

“Kurt! Are you all right?”

“’m so tired,” Kurt mumbled into Blaine’s neck. Already he felt so much better. Safe. _Home_.

“Of course you are, you’ve barely slept all week. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Blaine was already unzipping Kurt’s parka and unwinding the scarf from his neck. Kurt groaned. Bed sounded like heaven right now. But–

“Can’t. Have to study. I have one last exam tomorrow.”

“Mm, no,” Blaine said with a firmness Kurt rarely – if ever – heard from him. “You’ve studied enough. You won’t pass that exam if you don’t rest, Kurt. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“But–”

“Shh. Let me help.” Blaine’s fingers were already dancing down the front of Kurt’s vest, opening the little buttons one by one. He slid the vest off Kurt’s arms and hung it over the back of a chair, then started on his shirt buttons, his fingertips fleeting points of warmth against Kurt’s chest. “Have you eaten anything?”

Kurt shook his head. “Didn‘t have time.”

“I have pasta from the diner. I’ll heat it up while you take a hot shower. You’re all cold and tense.”

“I can’t take your dinner.”

Blaine shrugged from his knees, where he was just easing Kurt’s skintight pants down his legs. “Marie gave me plenty. We can share.”

All done with the pants, he kissed Kurt’s hip just over the waistband of his boxer-briefs before getting to his feet. It was a testament of just how exhausted Kurt was that he didn’t react to Blaine’s lips on his body in the usual way.

He swayed as soon as Blaine let go of him. Now that he’d accepted that he needed some rest, his body seemed to weigh a ton. Blaine didn’t miss it, his sure hands catching Kurt immediately.

“Or maybe I’ll shower with you.”

He was already leading Kurt to the little bathroom they shared with the boys in the adjoining room, and Kurt went easily, for once content to be steered and directed. It only took a minute for them to find themselves in the shower stall, hot water pouring over Kurt’s back as Blaine lathered him with the ginger and lemon-scented shower gel, kneading his aching muscles as he went. They were naked, wet, skin to skin in the tight space, but it wasn’t sexual in the slightest this time. All Kurt felt was love and gratitude. He closed his eyes and leaned into Blaine who massaged his scalp as he washed his hair and rubbed conditioner through it. It was so good, the warmth and comfort and the familiar scents mingling, that Kurt put his head on Blaine’s shoulder and hummed happily. He lost the train of time a little, and the next thing he knew, Blaine was drying his skin gently with a soft towel, still holding him close and safe. Blaine smiled when he saw Kurt’s eyes open.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll put the pasta in the microwave and be right with you.”

“Mm, no eating in bed,” Kurt mumbled without conviction, crawling under the covers without bothering to put on his pajamas.

“We’ll make an exception tonight. What time is your exam tomorrow?”

“Nine.”

“I’ll wake you up at seven.” The microwave beeped, so Blaine pulled the plastic container out and divided the steaming contents between two bowls. The smell of it made Kurt’s stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten since early lunch. “Here. Eat up.”

They ate in bed, sitting side by side against the headboard, and after a while, Kurt could barely keep his eyes open, the hand holding his fork getting heavy. Blaine laughed softly and took the nearly-empty bowl out of his hands.

Kurt whined, sliding down until he was curled on his side. The bed was _so_ comfortable he never wanted to leave it. “I should go brush my teeth.”

“I think you can skip it just once. Sleep, Kurt.” Blaine switched off the bedside lamp and spooned him from behind, kissing his neck. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Kurt mumbled before sleep claimed him.

 

**YEAR 2**

“Are you sure?” Kurt asked for the third or fourth time.

Blaine rolled his eyes and then moaned when Kurt’s fingers twitched deep in him. “ _Yes._ Please.” He paused to catch his breath, and his brows furrowed. “Unless you don’t want to. Is that it? Because if you don’t want this, we don’t have to–”

“No, I do. It’s just…” Kurt slid his fingers free and wiped them discreetly on the sheet. Talking with half his hand up Blaine’s ass felt weird. “I mean, after all your previous owners… I just wonder if this can be even good for you. And I don’t want to hurt you in any way or…”

Blaine reached up and pulled Kurt in for a deep kiss. “You won’t hurt me. I want this _because_ it’s with you,” he said once they parted. “Everything we’ve done, every single thing has been wonderful. Even things that had never been pleasant before. And I want _this_ with you, too. I love being in you, but I want to be fully yours like this, too. Please?”

Kurt let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Maybe you should be on top though, so that you can control how slow you take me in?”

Blaine shook his head. “I don’t need control. I know you’ll take good care of me. Just… like this? I want to see your face.”

Kurt nodded and reached for more lube, kissing Blaine again as he slid his fingers back in, making sure he was perfectly prepared.

Blaine broke away from him after a moment, panting. “Kurt, _now._ Please _,_ stop teasing and just… _Please_.”

Kurt wanted to. He really, really did. Rationally, he knew Blaine was willing and eager and more than ready. But as soon as his cock nudged the rim of Blaine’s ass, he hesitated, the doctor’s words from years ago coming back to him – words about scarring and abuse, admonitions to be so, so careful with this beautiful boy.

“ _Kuuuurt_ ,” Blaine whined.

“I’m sorry, I just. I’m so afraid to hurt you.” Kurt’s breath was coming faster, and Blaine cupped his cheek, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“You won’t hurt me.” He reached between them to steady Kurt’s cock and wound his legs around Kurt’s waist, nudging him gently in. “Come on. I promise to tell you if I’m uncomfortable.”

But he didn’t – Kurt slid in so, so carefully, and Blaine just gasped and arched and urged him on, repeating Kurt’s name like a prayer until he was all in and rocking into Blaine slowly, at which point Blaine seemed to have lost the ability to speak and just moaned helplessly. Kurt paused, unsure. Blaine sounded so _raw._

“Okay?” Kurt asked, his nerves still wound tight with worry.

“ _Yes._ It feels so good _,_ please don’t stop.” Blaine’s face was awed, and his hips wouldn’t stop moving. “I didn’t know it can feel _so_ _good._ ”

So Kurt moved; and once he did, he couldn’t stop, spurred on by Blaine’s reactions – his voice curling around _yes_ es and _please_ s and endearments, his skin glowing, flushed and sweaty, his body rocking into every move with utter abandon. When Kurt reached for his cock, he found it rock hard and wet, dripping precome all over Blaine’s belly. Blaine whimpered and pushed into his hand, then back onto his cock, time and again, as if unable to decide which he wanted more.

Kurt was so busy watching the stunning spectacle underneath him, so focused on taking care and giving Blaine what he needed, that he hardly paid attention to his own reaction. The coil of pleasure tightening in his belly was something distant, unimportant right now. It was only when Blaine tensed and cried his name, pulsing around him that Kurt noticed just how close he was himself. It took just a few more thrusts to fall over the edge.

They lay together, sweaty and sticky in the aftermath, grinning at each other across the pillow. Blaine sighed happily and burrowed closer, his breath tickling Kurt’s collarbone when he spoke.

“Kurt?”

“Hm?”

“Those previous owners that you were worried about? Everything they did? It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m yours and you make me happier than I ever knew I could be. I want everything with you.”

“Everything?” A fleeting vision of tuxes and rings and vows flew through Kurt’s mind, but he pushed it away. They were barely twenty. And that wasn’t even the main reason why it was impossible any time soon.

Blaine kissed his Adam’s apple. “Absolutely everything.”

 

**YEAR 3**

Kurt stood by the counter of the Spotlight diner, unable to stop smiling as he watched Blaine in his black and red waiter uniform, singing his heart out to the crowd of enchanted customers. Blaine looked so _happy_ here, content to do his job, to be among people, to sing. Kurt had known how much Blaine loved it here, of course – he’d heard it in the enthusiasm with which Blaine spoke about his job, the eagerness to go every morning, even when he’d just been helping in the kitchen – but actually seeing him in his element drove home just how good a decision it had been to take Blaine to New York. He blossomed here.

“He’s fantastic,” Kurt breathed.

Gunther, Spotlight’s owner, nodded his white head. “I would have promoted him to waiter long ago, had I known he had such a voice. Two weeks and he’s already a customer favorite, has he told you that?”

Kurt raised his eyebrows. “No?”

Gunther hummed. “Mhm. Humble as ever.” He looked at Kurt. “I’m glad you’re establishing the fund for him at last. This kid deserves a full life and all the opportunities he can get. They all do.”

“Well, I promised myself as soon as I could support us both, Blaine’s money would start going towards his freedom. And now I can. My boss at _Vogue_ has just told me they’re hiring me full-time. I may have to cut back on fancy coffee if I am to manage all expenses by myself, but I’ll make do. His future is more important.”

“Good.” Gunther motioned towards Blaine who had finished his song and was skipping back towards one of his tables to take an order, a wide smile on his face. “You can take him home early today, if you want to. Go celebrate.” Kurt nodded his thanks, and Gunther called out, “Hey, Blaine!”

“Yes, boss?” Blaine turned towards them, perky and alert, his eyes widening. “Oh. Kurt?”

“I was just telling Mr. Hummel that you can leave early today to celebrate his promotion,” Gunther said. “Tell Dani to take over your tables.”

Blaine’s smile grew impossibly wider. “You got promoted? Oh my god, congratulations!” He started towards him as if to run into Kurt’s arms, but stopped himself quickly, mindful of where they were, and turned to Gunther. “Thank you, sir. I’ll talk to Dani and then I’ll be ready to go.”

Kurt grinned and sat down to wait, his mind already working on plans for a rare afternoon together.

They would go home and dress up, with a strategically chosen scarf for Blaine to cover his mark. They could go to the movies and eat dinner at some nice, relaxed restaurant, and if they were careful, they should be able to enjoy a date like any other couple. Kurt’s heart sped up happily at the thought of holding hands in public and buying a red rose for Blaine at the first flower stall he saw as they walked.

New York wasn’t necessarily more open-minded towards slave issues than Ohio – not as a whole – but the difference was New Yorkers didn’t usually pry into other people’s business. Kurt and Blaine had tested it already: if they looked and acted like a regular couple, they were perceived as a regular couple. They didn’t dare do it too often, afraid their luck may run out one day, but it felt divine to feel normal every now and then, as if their love wasn’t forbidden; as if they didn’t have to wait years to officially be together.

And now that Blaine’s wages were finally going to be put into his freedom fund every week, they were one step closer to that dream becoming reality.

Blaine came out of the kitchen, already changed out of the uniform except for the thin black collar all slaves had to wear at Spotlight. He smiled at Kurt politely, aware of the customers’ eyes – and ears – around them.

“I’m ready, sir. We can go if it pleases you.”

“Thank you, Blaine. Let’s go, then. I’ve got a lot planned for tonight.”

 

**YEAR 4**

Kurt wasn’t sure sure what started it, but he knew it had been building for months.

It was his final year of school, with all the pressure of graduating and starting _real_ life looming on the horizon. His job at _Vogue_ took his every free minute now that he was working full-time, and in the summer, Isabelle had introduced him to a few designers who she thought might help him launch his first small line. There had been a few lunches and a couple of presentations since then, some fashion shows and social gatherings that he’d been invited to, and each was too good an opportunity to miss. Kurt had fallen into the designer crowd like he was born to be there, among talented, ambitious, like-minded people.

He worked his ass off to fit it all into days that were always too short, but he loved every minute of it. Sure, he hardly ever came home to their new apartment before ten anymore. Sure, sometimes he just caught a couple hours of sleep on the sofa in the sewing room Nathaniel, a trendy young designer, let him use in his studio, instead. True, he hadn’t managed to go home for Thanksgiving for the first time ever.

But this was his career he was building, his future. This was important.

The annoying thing was, Blaine didn’t understand. He never said anything, never complained, but Kurt saw him growing sadder and quieter, saw the _looks_ every time Blaine wasn’t asleep when Kurt came home or left early in the morning, and the guilt they evoked was something Kurt really didn’t have time for now. It wasn’t as if he could take Blaine with him to a gala or a fashion show, could he? He was doing his best.

And tonight had just been a breaking point. Kurt had gotten home past eleven, exhausted after classes and work and a business dinner with a potential sponsor for his line, and all he wanted was to drop into bed and catch a few much needed hours of sleep. Except once he opened the door to their tiny apartment, the first thing he saw were flowers and candles – half-melted now – and what looked like a full homemade dinner sitting untouched on their beautifully set dining room table. Blaine sat cross-legged on the sofa, staring through the dark window at the clouded November sky. He didn’t turn until Kurt set his bag on the floor.

“I hoped you would be home earlier tonight,” was all Blaine said, quietly, but that was enough to make the stirring of guilt in Kurt’s chest turn into annoyance. He was just so _tired_ , he didn’t have the energy to deal with this tonight.

“Well if you’d asked, you would have known I couldn’t. And I already had dinner.” It came out harsh, and Blaine just looked at him, and in his glassy, luminous eyes Kurt could see every complaint Blaine never voiced, every disappointment and failure Kurt didn’t want to think about. “What?” he snapped, going on the offensive.

Blaine shook his head and looked down at his knees. “It’s just… you’re never here anymore,” he said so quietly Kurt barely heard.

It would have been easier if he had yelled. Then Kurt could yell back without feeling like the bad guy. Instead, Kurt grabbed his bag and opened the door.

“You know what, I can’t deal with this right now.”

He could hear Blaine call his name as he slammed the door, but he didn’t turn back, his quick strides fueled by righteous anger. He just wanted some rest, dammit, was that too much to ask for? He had a long day tomorrow.

Without thinking, Kurt reached for his work phone. Nathaniel never went to sleep before one; they’d exchanged texts after midnight before. Tonight looked to be no different – he picked up after the first ring.

“Hi Nate, would you mind if I caught a few hours of sleep at the studio? I have to be there first thing in the morning anyway and it’s late and–”

Nathaniel’s voice in the phone sounded wide awake and energized. “Sure, come right over. I’m still here. Is everything alright? You sound off.”

“Yeah, just a bit of… boyfriend trouble.”

Kurt never talked much about his private life, and Nathaniel didn’t ask. This time he took it in stride, too.

“Wanna talk about it when you get here? I have whiskey, the perfect medicine for boyfriend trouble.”

Kurt hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I’m all ears if you need that. Or, you know… other body parts.” He chuckled and Kurt hummed noncommittally.

“I’m taking a cab. I’ll be there in twenty.”

*

It was entirely too easy to let the story pour out of him once he started, curled on a sofa with Nate with a tumbler of amber liquid in hand – _amber like Blaine’s eyes_ , his traitorous consciousness submitted, and Kurt pushed it away. He didn’t give Nate any details – he was smarter than that, and he didn’t exactly know where Nate stood on the whole slavery business – but he talked about the boyfriend who didn’t understand the reality of being an aspiring fashion designer, didn’t get how much time, effort and dedication it took to break through. Nate hummed and nodded and agreed, answering with his own stories of guys who’d wanted too much, who’d made crazy, impossible demands about his time and attention, and got promptly dumped for it.

“You don’t need an anchor like that,” he said, and Kurt nodded, even though it wasn’t like that with Blaine at all. “You can have a dozen like him, without the outrageous demands.”

 _What outrageous demands?_ The reasonable part of Kurt’s brain whispered. _That you have dinner with him once in a blue moon?_ He shook his head, chasing the voice away. He was still annoyed, the feeling heavy and unpleasant in his stomach. He didn’t want to think about it.

He took another long swallow of whiskey, already feeling its effects in the loosening of his tense muscles, easing the tangled knot of emotions in his head. His brain had slowed down.

Which was probably why he didn’t react immediately when Nate put his hand on his thigh, stroking his thumb across the inner seam of his pants in slow little circles. It felt nice, and when Nate’s hand slid slowly higher, Kurt’s cock stirred, interested. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything more than a quick jerk off in the shower. There just wasn’t time for slow, loving sex, and Blaine deserved more than just a quickie to help Kurt relax.

Nate was leaning into his space, his lips an inch away, when Kurt inhaled sharply and jerked back. What was he doing? Yes, Blaine deserved more – and _this_ was what Kurt was doing? Suddenly sobered, he jumped up from the sofa, nearly spilling his drink in a hurry to put it away.

“Sorry, Nate, but I… I can’t. I don’t want to. I love Blaine, and this is not the way to deal with things. Thank you, and I’m sorry, but I have to go.” And for the second time in one night, Kurt grabbed his bag and ran out.

He should go home. He should go home and talk to Blaine, except it was way past midnight and Blaine was probably asleep, and Kurt didn’t really know what to tell him anyway. So he found a 24-hour Starbucks and ordered a mocha. He usually just drank espresso these days, but he was going to be here a while until he figured out what to tell Blaine. What to do. What was wrong, because something obviously was – their relationship, once so dear to him, was turning into not much more than that of roommates. He didn’t want that. He loved Blaine, he didn’t need or want others, but somehow, somewhere they’d let their connection slip – _he’d_ let it slip, and if he didn’t fix it, he may lose Blaine. He could already feel him slipping through his fingers.

The thought made pain flare in his tightening throat.

Maybe he should make a list, write it all down and analyze it like he did with all the problems at work. They were always so much easier to solve when put on paper.

Kurt dug in his spacious bag in search of the little notebook he always carried with him, and among his sketchbooks, samples and keys, he suddenly found a slim blue lunchbox Blaine had bought for him a couple of years ago. Kurt’s hand shook as he pulled out the smooth plastic container with its silly pink heart print. He’d grabbed lunch at the cafeteria again, so he hadn’t even noticed the box that Blaine must have packed for him for the first time in weeks.

Kurt opened it now, revealing a carefully wrapped sandwich, a handful of baby carrots and celery sticks, and one of those little mint chocolates Kurt loved that were so hard to find. Taped to the inside of the cover was a small envelope with a hand-drawn little heart on it. Kurt opened it, his heart suddenly in his throat. Inside was a single sheet of paper filled with Blaine’s round, even handwriting.

_Dear Kurt,_

_Remember when you told me years ago that I should never hesitate to ask you for anything I need? I don’t know if it still applies, but here I am, asking._

_I really, really need you here. Even just for a bit. An hour, if you don’t have more, that’s all I ask. Come home early, have dinner with me. Tonight if you can. Or tomorrow. Just let me know, and I will make it work. Please._

_It’s just… You’re hardly ever home and I feel like you don’t want me here anymore and… Coop just found out that our father died last year and I know I haven’t seen him in ten years but it still hurts and you’re not here and…_

_I just feel so alone, Kurt._

_I’m sorry._

_B._

The writing was smudged by the end, losing its careful neatness, and Kurt’s heart broke as he reread the letter once more, feeling every word like a dagger. _He_ ’d done this. He’d caused Blaine to feel like this, to hesitate to ask him for something as simple as a moment of attention, something that should be obvious and natural. And he hadn’t hesitated without reason, as Kurt had just proved to him tonight.

With a bad feeling, he reached to his bag for his private phone. He had it on silent when he worked, and sure enough, there were three texts from Blaine, sent throughout the day, asking whether he would be home in time for dinner, and then letting him know Blaine was going to cook anyway, and wait up for him.

Cursing under his breath, Kurt pushed away the untouched coffee, shoved everything back into his bag and got up. He felt wide awake now, focused and clear-headed, and he was determined to get home as soon as possible, and _fix_ it. He had no delusions it could be mended quickly or easily, not when he’d let it unravel for months, but he had to start, now.

A cab ride and a race up the stairs later – he didn’t have the patience to wait for the elevator – Kurt unlocked the door with trembling fingers and pushed it open.

The apartment was dark, the dining room table empty and clean. Kurt dropped his bag and his coat, kicked off his shoes and rushed to the bedroom, praying for it not to be empty, too. But no – he found Blaine in their bed, curled on his side in the darkness with his eyes closed. He awoke as soon as Kurt climbed onto the bed.

“Kurt?” He sounded nasal, congested, and in the dim light of the moon falling through the window Kurt could see the puffiness around his eyes. He pulled Blaine into his arms, held him close and tight, remembering all those times when he’d promised himself he would never, ever hurt him, when all he ever wanted was to see Blaine happy.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry, and I know it’s not enough, but I promise, I’ll do better. I will work on changing my schedule. I’ll make time for you, for _us._ It’s _our_ future, after all, and what’s the point of working myself to death to get there if I don’t have you by my side every step of the way?”

Blaine didn’t say anything, just clung to his shirt and sobbed quietly, and Kurt held him until the wee hours of the morning, asking questions about his dad and his life lately, letting him talk and cry and share before they both finally fell asleep, only a breath apart.

At six, Kurt only opened his eyes to send out texts about the untimely stomach bug that forced him to stay home for a day or two, and turned back to Blaine before he could blink himself entirely awake. Gathering his beautiful, precious boyfriend back in his arms, he let himself forget about work and classes and designs for a bit. He had a lot of time to make up for. Starting now.

 

**YEAR 5**

_UP-AND-COMING FASHION DESIGNER HAS A SLAVE BEAU!_

_Kurt Hummel, brilliant fashion designer whose new formal menswear line promises to be exclusive and daring, has been hiding a dirty little secret. As revealed by our confidential source, Hummel enjoys his slaves a little_ too much _._

_The openly gay, striking 23-year-old can be seen out and about with a handsome dark-haired man sporting a slave brand on his neck. Our sources confirm that the two consider themselves boyfriends._

_Looks like Hummel may have great taste when it comes to fashion, but his standards in men are disastrously low. One has to wonder how it will affect his career._

_Read on to remember other celebrity scandals involving slaves._

 

Kurt clicked the browser closed, shaking with cold fury.

They’d been so careful. Over the years, they’d become very good at acting like a master and a slave in public, as well as hiding in plain view on those occasions when they let themselves pretend they weren’t. There were exactly three people in New York who knew that they were actually boyfriends, and Kurt very much doubted Isabelle or Gunther were the _anonymous source_ at that preposterous gossip site. He reached for his phone, ready to give the third person a piece of his mind, when a cool hand touched his wrist.

“What are you going to do?”

Kurt paused and forced himself to breathe, allowing Blaine to take his hand and stroke it in a soothing motion.

“I was going to call Nathaniel and yell at him,” he admitted.

“You think it was him?”

“Yes.”

It must have been. After Kurt had rejected his advances that night nearly two years ago, the relations between the two of them had rapidly cooled, to the point where Kurt had had to urgently search for another sewing space. He’d ended up adapting the second bedroom in their apartment, which served the double purpose of having more time with Blaine, too, so he wasn’t complaining, but it looked like the cocky Brit hadn’t forgiven him. The two of them still met occasionally at fashion events and functions, but they hardly ever talked beyond empty niceties. And just last week Nathaniel had ran into them on Broadway, after Kurt had picked Blaine up from the diner, and expressed unusual eagerness to be introduced.

Blaine squeezed his hand and Kurt finally looked at him over the breakfast table. He saw a worried frown.

“But what are we going to do about this?” He motioned to the closed laptop. Kurt made a face at it, like it was something disgusting. “Isn’t it going to hurt the publicity for your first show?”

Kurt tried to shrug it off. “It’s just one website, and they’re known for preposterous gossip. No one’s going to take it seriously.”

“Are you sure there isn’t more?”

Kurt took a deep breath and forced himself to open the laptop again and google his own name. The first page of results opened with his own professional website, followed by multiple variations of the same story published on various gossip and fashion blogs and portals.

Shit. This wasn’t good.

Kurt’s stomach clenched as he made himself scroll through the articles and the comment sections, Blaine’s face in his peripheral vision paling visibly as he read along. There were a few rational or even positive voices, but for the most part, it was a deluge of filth and hate. On some of the unmoderated sites, it got as bad as threats towards him or “the slave,” or people like him and their slaves in general, with a generous sprinkling of homophobia mixed in. Kurt snapped the laptop closed, more shaken than he wanted to admit, and turned to Blaine, taking both of his hands. The wheels in his head were already turning rapidly, doing crisis management.

“Okay, I think for now, we shouldn’t be seen together in public. I don’t want to risk your safety. They posted my picture, but not yours, so as long as they don’t associate you with me, you should be fine. Tell Gunther what happened as soon as you get to work today, but make sure no one else overhears. I will talk with Isabelle. We’ll be okay.”

“But your show–”

“Let’s not worry about my show yet. We’ll see what happens. For all we know, this may be good. More publicity, right?”

*

It wasn’t good. Within the next three days several of Kurt’s ads got vandalized, and a bunch of influential people from the fashion world who’d already confirmed their interest in the show suddenly informed them they wouldn’t be attending after all. Isabelle warned him that more still may choose to ignore the event without the courtesy of telling them. The industry press, who had called him a young prodigy and New York’s new darling just a month ago, suddenly turned cool and wary.

On the other hand, there were positive voices, voices of support and praise for treating slaves like human beings, for bravery. But these were few and far between compared with the hate.

Isabelle was on his side, at least. She’d met Blaine numerous times and adored him, but by the end of the week, even she seemed worried by the new developments. A few fashion portals and minor magazines had now called to ask Kurt for interviews, so that he could “respond to the latest rumors.”

“Okay, let’s discuss your options,” Isabelle said on Friday evening. It had been five days since the initial article and she was sitting on the couch in their apartment, stocking feet curled under herself and a glass of wine in hand. “I’m not telling you what to do, okay? This is just a list of possible reactions as I see them. One thing is sure: you have to respond somehow. The show is in two weeks. This thing won’t go away by itself like we hoped. If you ignore them, it will only get uglier.”

Kurt nodded, his own glass already drained. “Okay. So what do you propose?”

“Well, it all boils down to what image you want to build. First option, you could deny everything and claim their source was mistaken. From what we know, they don’t have any pictures.”

Kurt frowned. “Wouldn’t that mean I could never be seen with Blaine anymore?”

Isabelle nodded grimly. “Pretty much, yes. What’s worse, they may take to following you to try and verify your words.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am. You have become New York’s favorite little scandal these last few days. It wouldn’t take much for the press to learn where you live, stake out the building, follow Blaine. Actually, for his safety it might be better if you send him to Ohio for a few months at least, until they forget. Hide him away somewhere. You said he has a brother, right?”

Kurt shook his head vehemently. “No. I’m not sending him anywhere. And I don’t like the idea of denying his existence.”

Isabelle nodded once and sipped her wine. “I thought you’d say that. Well, the next option would be admitting you have a slave, but undermining the source’s words by saying he’s just a pleasure slave you’ve had for a long time and are fond of, but just in a physical sense.”

Kurt felt queasy at the thought. “Absolutely not. He’s so much more than that. I won’t say such a thing about him.”

Isabelle sighed. “So that leaves only one possibility, really.”

“And that is?” Kurt asked, even though he knew already.

“Admit it. Agree to an interview and open up about your views on slavery and your relationship with Blaine. Tell them a captivating story of rescuing a beautiful young slave from imminent death and the long, faithful relationship you two have enjoyed. Give them a love story they can’t resist. Tell them you hope to free him eventually. Hell, for the best effect tell them about your business plans involving slaves. Be bold, draw the whole dream for them to see. Go on the offensive.”

Kurt exhaled harshly. “They’d slay me.”

“Not necessarily. Some will try for sure. In many eyes, you’ll be over before you really began, but for others, it may be just the thing to make you stand out. It’s a risk, but this is New York. There are many progressive voices, including some of those who count in this business.” Isabelle reached out to squeeze Kurt’s hand. “It’s your choice, but if you don’t want to deny who you are, that’s probably the only way.”

Just then, the front door opened and Blaine came in, home from his shift at the diner. He looked tired and drawn, and Kurt knew it wasn’t because of a hard day at work. Blaine worried about this whole situation to the point where he lost sleep and his usual bubbliness, and it pained Kurt to see it. The thought that he could add to it with lies about what Blaine was to him was unbearable.

There wasn’t really much of a choice here.

“Okay. I’ll do it,” he said. “I have to talk to Blaine first, but I’m gonna do it.”

Blaine put away his bag and kissed Kurt’s cheek before perching on the armrest next to him. “Talk to me about what?”

Kurt turned to him. “I want to come out, about us. Admit that the rumor is true.”

Blaine frowned, immediately worried. “That can’t be safe for you or your career.”

“The other options all include pretending you don’t matter to me, and I refuse to do that. We’re together; we’re a team. It’s not like I didn’t know it may come to this one day. I’m ready, unless you really don’t want me doing this.”

Blaine took a steadying breath and interlaced their fingers. “No. I’m with you whatever you decide.”

Kurt nodded and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you,” he whispered. He turned to Isabelle who was watching them with a soft expression. “So who should I talk to, what do you think?”

She thought a moment, absentmindedly tapping her lip with a finger, then her eyes widened. “We’ll take it.”

“What do you mean?”

“ _Vogue._ We’ll print it. If I write it tomorrow, I can still squeeze it in the next issue, so it comes out just before your show.”

Kurt stared at her. “But… Isabelle, it’s _Vogue_! That’s bound to hurt the magazine’s reputation. Besides, Anna will never allow that.”

“Leave Anna to me. We’ll print it as an opinion piece, not our official stance. And you’re our long-time employee, so it makes perfect sense.”

“But–”

She patted his knee with a wicked little grin. “Shush, let me deal with it. What time are you free tomorrow? And are you open to pictures?”

Kurt hummed, still shell-shocked, but deciding quickly. “Mine yes, Blaine’s no. I don’t want all this to affect him more than it has to. And I can be free any time you need me. Just let me know.”

She was up and putting on her heels already. “Okay. I’ve gotta run, start making phone calls, but I’ll call you tonight. Start planning what you want to say.”

*

**KURT HUMMEL BARES IT ALL: “MY PARTNER IS EVERY BIT A HUMAN BEING THAT I AM”  
by Isabelle Wright**

You might have heard about Kurt Hummel, the fashion ingénue. Or maybe Kurt Hummel, the slave lover. But what you haven’t heard is his story. I had a chance to sit down with Kurt Hummel in his New York apartment. He’s wearing a gorgeous purple silk jacket from his new collection and appears calm and relaxed, considering he is involved in the hottest slave-related scandal New York has seen in months. Kurt, a long-time _Vogue_ employee, agreed to talk to us about the recent rumors concerning his personal life.

**_You have recently been accused of being in a relationship with a slave._ **

_Yes. And let me just say how wrong it feels that this is where the outrage comes in. If the rumor said I was sleeping with a slave, no one would blink an eye, but treating a slave like the human being is scandalous._

**_Is the rumor true?_ **

_Yes, it is. I have been in a happy, committed relationship with my partner, who is technically a slave, for the last five years._

**_Technically?_ **

_Technically. I’m opposed to slavery, and while our society requires us to play certain roles, my partner is every bit a human being that I am. We’re equals._

**_And yet, you own him. Why would you purchase a slave at all if you don’t support slavery?_ **

_Back in high school, I walked in on a situation where a slave was about to be murdered – or, as it was called, put down. I bought him to save him from certain death, and brought him home to my parents. He was sick, had been beaten and starved. Now, he’s a healthy, beautiful man. He’s smart, kind and talented, and I love him with all my heart._

**_But you don’t have a real future with him, do you?_ **

_Not everyone knows this, but slaves can be freed. I hope to be able to make him a free man in a few years._

**_A scandal like this could cost you your budding career. Did you consider hiding the truth?_ **

_I did. But that wouldn’t be fair to my partner or myself, and considering I intend to openly work with slaves in my growing company, I decided to just come clean._

**_You oppose slavery. Why would you buy slaves for your company?_ **

_For the same reason I bought my partner all those years ago: to help them. They are human beings. They deserve to be treated as such, with respect and care. I intend to create an ethical workplace where slaves can work in good conditions, earn adequate wages with health care and everything a free employee would expect, and where they can be freed after a set amount of time._

**_Only after a set amount of time?_ **

_Our law allows slaves to be freed only after spending at least five years with the same owner, and after they’ve saved a set amount of money to start their free life with. They can earn that money working and being paid like free people are._

**_Doesn’t it defy the purpose of owning a slave if you pay them?_ **

_That’s the point._

**_Do you believe you will find sponsors and clients for your designs, in spite of your opinions?_ **

_I’ll let my designs speak for themselves. I’m creating quality clothes, not selling ideology. But I believe that there are a lot of people in the world who share my opinions, and a lot more who would share it if they knew how dreadful a slave’s life usually is. If I can help even a handful of slaves, it’s worth the risk._

The interview was accompanied by a short note about Kurt’s show and a two-page article Isabelle wrote about the bleak reality of slave model mills. _Vogue’s_ website was already teeming with comments 24 hours after the magazine came out – comments that ranged from outraged to supportive, with quite a lot of surprise where people said the article made them think. That was good. Still, the viciousness of many responses was getting to Kurt, and soon Blaine gently closed the lid of his laptop and led him to bed. The show was two days away and Kurt needed every minute of sleep he could catch in between last-minute preparations.

When the day came, the crowd was thicker than Kurt anticipated. Many of the important people Kurt had hoped to see were missing, but there were others he hadn’t expected. The room was filled with serious and curious and neutral faces, and no matter what brought them here tonight, when the last of the models walked off the runway, it wasn’t Kurt’s private life they were talking about.

Kurt considered taking Blaine’s hand and walking out with him for the final bow, bold and unafraid, but caution won. He wouldn’t risk it, wouldn’t give all the gossip rags Blaine’s face to publish. Not until he was sure he could keep him safe. Not yet.

As he walked into the afterparty, immediately catching everyone’s attention, he didn’t know what to expect. But he knew that whatever was in his future, he was ready to take it.

 

**YEAR 6**

The last notes melted away in the sun-filled room as Blaine got up from the piano to take a bow. His smile was shy but bright. The audience, who had arrived at the Spotlight diner specifically for this little concert cheered for him generously. Standing among them, Kurt beamed and clapped till his palms stung, a little choked up with pride over his amazing, talented boyfriend.

It took a while before Blaine was free from the people who praised him on his performance (“Thank you, sir, I’m glad to hear you enjoyed it.”), who told him he should think about recording an album (“Thank you, madam, but I’m just a simple slave.”), or – in one case – inquired whether Blaine’s owner would be inclined to sell him as a high-class entertainment slave (“I don’t think so, sir, but you can ask for yourself. My master is right over there.”). Then it took Kurt another long moment to convince the overenthusiastic retired Broadway actor that Blaine was indeed not for sale, not even for the (frankly staggering) amount of money the man proposed. But finally the crowd thinned, the diner returned to its usual evening buzz, and Blaine was free to leave. Kurt could barely wait to hug him until they were safely away in the empty back room.

“Oh my god, Blaine, that was _incredible!_ ” he exclaimed as soon as the door closed behind them. _“_ I had no idea you were going to play too, or that you were so good already! And your voice… I swear, I got chills a couple of times, it was that beautiful.”

Blaine looked up at him from beneath his lowered eyelashes. “I’m glad. Half of the songs were for you.”

Kurt glanced around furtively and, satisfied that they were still alone, pressed a heated kiss to Blaine’s lips.

“Let me take you out for a congratulatory dinner,” he said once they parted.

“At Freestyle?” Blaine asked hopefully. “I don’t want to have to pretend tonight.”

“Freestyle it is.” Kurt beamed at him. “Come on, let’s get a cab.”

*

Twenty minutes later, they entered the elegant lobby of a steel-and-glass skyscraper. The silent man who was more of a bouncer than a doorman checked their customer card. Satisfied, he escorted them to the private elevator that would whisk them up to a rare safe place for couples like them. Freestyle was a classy establishment, accessible only after a thorough background check, introduced to Kurt by one of the photographers he’d been working with last year. The prices were steep, but it was worth it for the freedom this place offered. Here, they could have a meal, drinks or even a dance without fear of hostility or judgment – here, they weren’t owners and slaves, but equals, partners, as close to normal couples as they could ever be.

Kurt and Blaine didn’t come here often – they couldn’t afford to, really, but from what Kurt had seen, the place was never empty. There were always couples of all ages and configurations here, and he’d heard enough to know that for some, it was the only place in public they could ever hope to be together openly. Even in New York, not everyone could afford to free their slaves, even if they wanted to. For many, occasional visits here were the only freedom they had in their future, and it never stopped reminding Kurt how lucky he was to have what he ached for so close.

“I know I told you already, but I’m really proud of how much you’ve improved since I first heard you sing,” Kurt said when they sat in a quiet booth, holding hands under low, warm lighting. “You were really good back then, but now you’re _phenomenal_. Have you considered focusing fully on music when you leave the diner?”

Blaine frowned minutely, confused. “I’m going to leave the diner?”

“Of course you are. Once you’re free, you can’t really work there anymore. Have you thought about what you want to do then?”

The frown disappeared and Blaine smiled, seemingly amused. “Ah. No, I haven’t. It’s still years away, why would I plan for it already?”

“Oh.” Kurt’s eyes widened. He squeezed Blaine’s hand, barely able to hold his giddy grin in check. “I thought Gunther told you.”

“Told me what?”

“You will have the required amount saved in a year, at most. Probably a few months earlier.”

Blaine sat straighter, his hand tightening its hold on Kurt’s. “But… how? It’s been only what, three years since you set up the fund? And Gunther told me it would take seven when he first hired me.”

“All your tips are put into your account along with your wages, and apparently you’re getting quite a lot of those.” Kurt smiled at him proudly. “Plus, Cooper has been sending you some money every month.”

“Oh,” Blaine said softly. He looked stunned, but before he could say anything else, their food arrived, and the conversation ceased for the moment.

Blaine remained unusually quiet throughout dessert and on their way home, tucked against Kurt’s side in the back of the cab. Kurt assumed he was just tired – nerves about his first concert had kept him tossing and turning long into the night. But when they got home and Kurt reached to take off Blaine’s collar like he did every night, Blaine caught his hand.

“Can I keep it on? For now?”

Kurt frowned. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Blaine shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “Nothing. I think.” Then he bit his lip and looked up. “Can I talk to you about it when I’m ready?”

“Sure.”

That was something they’d learned two years ago, in the hard, painful months when they worked to rebuild the trust and closeness they’d nearly lost: to try and communicate, even when they weren’t ready to talk about something. To touch base and measure the emotional wellbeing of each other regularly. To pay attention. They’d gotten better at it, but it was still a work in progress. Kurt was relieved now to see Blaine didn’t revert to hiding things that were troubling him.

He watched Blaine, concerned, as he went to make tea for them, as they Skyped with Kurt’s family to tell them all about Blaine’s concert, as Blaine went to take a bubble bath. Kurt asked if he wanted company or help, but Blaine smiled wanly and shook his head. So Kurt settled on the couch with a magazine he couldn’t focus on, and waited.

Finally, after almost an hour, Blaine walked out of the bathroom. He was pink from heat and smelling sweetly, wearing only a pair of black boxer-briefs and the formal black collar that he was required to wear at work. He looked utterly hot, but Kurt was too worried to focus on that. He winced at the sight of the wet leather around Blaine’s neck.

“Sweetie, you’ll get chaffed. Are you sure you don’t want to take the collar off?”

Blaine shook his head and walked up to the couch, hovering uncertainly for a moment as Kurt dropped his magazine and patted the space next to him.

“Kurt… May I kneel? I want to talk to you and I feel like– I want to kneel.”

Kurt nodded, the bad feeling in his gut growing. Blaine lowered himself to the floor in front of him, and that, along with his nudity and the dark line of the collar, made Kurt want to cry, half-faded memories resurfacing. He scooted closer to the edge of the couch and cupped Blaine’s cheek, needing a reminder that they were partners, equals. Together. Not seventeen and terribly unsure what’s next.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked softly. “Can you tell me?”

Blaine nodded. He looked calmer now, determined. “I don’t want to be free.” He saw the way Kurt’s eyes widened and spoke faster, a note of pleading bleeding into his tone. “I can keep working at the diner. And we can use the fund for something better, something special for both of us. We could take a long vacation maybe? Somewhere warm and safe?”

His hands were tightening into fists on his thighs, and Kurt swallowed the firm _No_ that was his immediate reaction. Instead, he threaded his fingers through Blaine’s hair in a soothing gesture and took a calming breath.

“Can you tell me _why_ you don’t want to be free?”

Blaine nodded. “I don’t need it. I’m happy where I am – with you, and at my job. I’m a good slave. Why change it?”

Kurt cocked his head, thinking. “I know it’s a big change. Are you… afraid of what it would be like?” he ventured.

“I… yes.”

“What are you afraid of?”

Blaine seemed to deflate, his head dropping. “Everything,” he said quietly. “Kurt, I’ve never _been_ free. All my life, I always had someone tell me what to do, where to go, who to be. I have no idea how to do any of it on my own. I don’t know who I am if I’m not a slave.”

Kurt nodded. It made perfect sense. “I know it must be overwhelming. But there’s no hurry. You will learn. And you’re not alone. Cooper has been through this already, I’m sure he’ll be a great help with anything you need.” He kissed Blaine’s forehead. “And you will always have me.”

“Will I?” Blaine asked softly, hanging his head. He sounded so unsure Kurt’s heart clenched painfully.

“Of course! Have you ever doubted it?”

“I–”

 _Oh._ So _that_ was the problem.

“Blaine, look at me.” Kurt waited until he could see Blaine’s eyes, bright and miserable, before asking, “Do you think your freedom will change something between us?”

“Well…it will. Now I’m yours. Even when things were so bad, even when I thought you didn’t want me anymore, there was still that one bond. When it’s gone… I’ll be alone, untethered.”

Kurt grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “You will _never_ be alone,” he said fiercely. “Even free, you will be mine. And I’ll be yours. And you’re right, our relationship _will_ change, do you know why? Because I’ll be able to take your hand and kiss you and treat you like my boyfriend everywhere we go, always. I’ll be able to take you to my work events and introduce you as the love of my life. I’ll be able to marry you one day.”

Blaine’s jaw dropped. “You want to marry me?”

Kurt grinned. “Of course I do. We’ve been together for six years, do you think I’m just biding my time? I want you forever, I thought you knew that.”

“I… I thought you only meant as your slave.”

“No, silly.” Kurt pulled on Blaine’s hands. “Come on, can you get up here?”

Blaine nodded and climbed onto the couch, and Kurt gathered his chilled body into his arms and pulled a blanket over both of them. Blaine nuzzled into his neck, hiding his face in his favorite spot.

“So are you still sure you don’t want to be free?” Kurt asked after a moment. Blaine hummed against his skin.

“You make it sound less scary, I admit. But it’s still a lot. Finding a new job, deciding what it is I want to do, passing that test… It’s overwhelming.”

Kurt stroked his hand through Blaine’s hair in a soothing motion. “I know. But you’ve raced through all the books years ago, I wouldn’t worry about the test. And you have time to think which way you want to go with your career. With your voice and frankly supernatural speed that you learn to play instruments, I’d suggest something connected with music, but it’s your choice. You can do whatever makes you happy. There are a lot of restaurants in New York, if you’d rather keep doing what you’re doing now. Or you can try something else entirely. Whatever you choose, I’ll support you.”

Blaine nodded. “It just… it seems like a lot of money wasted just to buy something I’m happy without.”

Kurt frowned and raised Blaine’s head to look into his eyes. “Wait, you think the money in your fund is to buy your freedom?”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, that’s not how it works. You have to save the required amount, but the money is yours. You keep it. It’s your starting fund, so to speak, so you can rent a place to live if you want to, or get some education, or take your time finding a job you like.”

“Oh. _Ooh_ , really?” Blaine’s eyes sparkled at that bit of knowledge. “I could go to school, too?”

“ _Yes._ There are schools and all kinds of courses for freed slaves that don’t require a high school diploma. I can show you.”

Blaine took a shuddering breath, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh. Okay. Then I think I… I may like the idea.”

 

**YEAR 7**

The brand and tattoo parlor was located right along Central Park, its windows facing the lush spring greenery bathed in April sunlight. It was the best place of its kind in New York.

Neither of these facts made walking in any easier. As soon as they opened the door, the sharp stink of burnt skin that couldn’t be fully masked by the scented candles made Kurt’s stomach turn. Blaine’s sweaty hand tightened painfully around his.

All Kurt wanted was to turn back and leave, taking Blaine with him – back to safety, to normalcy, where no one burnt anyone with red-hot irons. It was not too late.

But he knew they couldn’t leave – not if they wanted Blaine to be really free. This was the last terrifying step, after the test and the paperwork; the last fuck-you from the government. A dose of pain to remind the newly-freed slaves who they were.

The reception was nice enough, if one could ignore the smell – comfortable armchairs and tattoo magazines on a glass table, a beautiful Asian receptionist with a colorful mosaic covering her whole right arm and creeping high up her neck. Soft jazz was playing quietly through the speakers installed in the corners of the room.

A high, sharp scream came from behind one of the closed doors, and Blaine froze in his armchair, his face going pale. A few seconds of silence, and then loud, hysterical sobs followed, interrupted by a scolding female voice. Blaine curled up on himself. Kurt squeezed his hand, feeling like he was going to throw up.

The door opened a few minutes later and a woman appeared, blonde and dressed to the nines, pushing a girl in front of her. The child, swaying on her feet to the point where only the woman’s grip on her arm kept her up, couldn’t be older than ten. Her face was shocked, screwed in pain, and she was still crying soundlessly. A large swath of gauze was taped to the right side of her neck.

A man stepped out behind them, tall and tattooed, with several piercings on his face. “Ma’am, you need to let your slave sit down. Branding is a shock to the body, she needs to rest for a bit. We have rooms just for that, if you let me–”

His tone was calm, but firm, but the woman took no notice. “She can rest in the car. I have errands to run.” She turned to the receptionist. “You take credit cards, of course.”

The man sighed and shook his head, then turned to Kurt and Blaine. “Come in.”

The room was tiled and neat, but not clinical, with splashes of color and a gallery of tattoo photographs on the walls. In the middle of the room stood what looked creepily like a dentist chair, with leather straps that made it look even more terrifying. A wheeled stool and a mobile table with steel trays filled with unfamiliar tools was parked nearby. Actually being in here made Kurt’s heart pound almost painfully, as if he was the one about to endure the branding.

No, scratch that. It would be easier to endure it himself than watch Blaine suffer.

The man closed the door and turned to them with his hand extended. “Hi, my name is Elliott.”

Blaine shook his hand. “I’m Blaine, and this is Kurt.”

Elliott looked between them, and focused on Blaine, his tone warm. “I understand you’re in for rebranding, right? Is Kurt your last owner? Do you want him here? Just making sure; as a free man, you don’t have to be accompanied by your owner.”

Blaine shook his head and reached for Kurt’s hand. “He’s my boyfriend, and I definitely want him here.”

Elliott smiled brightly. “Oh, okay. That’s great, I’m glad you have the emotional support. I just need to see the paperwork, and we can get this over with.”

Blaine dug in his bag for the slave release contract, his trembling hands hindering the process.

Kurt bit his lip.

“How can you stand this?” The question sprang out unwelcome, and Elliott looked at him with his piercing grey eyes. “All those slaves, all the pain…”

Elliott nodded, his face earnest. “It’s not my favorite part of the job. But someone has to do it. And the way I see it, better it be me, with skills and care and compassion, than some sadist who will botch the procedure and send them away with complications.” He touched the side of his neck, clear and unmarked. “The skin here is thin, with major blood vessels underneath. It’s too easy to mess it up. Did you know hundreds of slaves die every year because of poorly-done branding and resulting infections?”

Kurt’s heart sped up even farther. “Has that ever happened to you?”

“Twice that I know of there were complications, both because the owners ignored my aftercare directions. But since I offer free help in such cases and have a doctor on call, the owners brought them back and everything ended well.” Elliott sighed. “But yes, I definitely prefer to do tattoos.”

Blaine finally managed to get the sheaf of paper out and Elliott took it from him, looking through the official document carefully. Satisfied that everything was in order, he took out a stamp and pressed it to the last page, where the space for this last step was left open. He dated and signed the rebranding certification before handing the papers back to Blaine.

“Okay, we’re ready. You can put your bag on the table there, and get on the chair.”

Kurt undid Blaine’s collar for him for the last time and slid it into his pocket. He didn’t miss Blaine’s unsteady breathing as he walked over to the chair and perched on the edge.

“Can’t you use any anesthetic?” Kurt asked, hopeful. Elliott shook his head.

“I’m not licensed as a medical practitioner, so I’m not allowed to. Sorry.”

“Can I hold him, at least?”

Shake of his head again. “I need him steady and unmoving for the few seconds when the brand touches the skin, or the burns will end up worse than they have to be. Hence the straps. But you can pull up a chair to the left side of the chair and hold his hand, how about that?” Elliott looked at Blaine as he said that, and Blaine nodded fervently.

“Please.”

Elliott walked around to the tray and took out a few X-shaped steel brands in various sizes. Blaine flinched away when he brought one of them up to his neck.

“Easy,” Elliott said softly. He was fully focused on Blaine now. “I’m not doing anything yet. These are cold. I just need to check what size will cover your old brand best, without scarring too far beyond it. This way, it won’t hurt nearly as much as the initial procedure.”

Blaine let out a shuddering breath. “How so?”

“The nerve endings were already destroyed by the first brand, so it won’t really hurt over your scar. The only places you will feel the pain are where the skin is untouched. I try to choose the size and position of the X brand so that there’s as little of that as possible, since the owner brands come in different shapes and sizes,” Elliott explained, picking the brands and holding them to Blaine’s mark one by one.

“Oh.” Blaine looked marginally relieved.

“It’s still unpleasant, and it’s impossible to eliminate pain entirely because the X needs to be bigger than the initial brand, but I promise I’m doing my best, okay?” Elliott put aside one of the brands and took a blowtorch from a tray. Kurt felt as if his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. It only got worse when Elliott put on a clean face mask and reached for the straps attached to the chair’s headrest.

“Okay, Blaine. Turn your head towards Kurt, and whatever you do, don’t try to move it,” he said, snapping the straps closed and adjusting them. He did the same with the set around Blaine’s chest, immobilizing his arms. “I’m going to tell you just before I touch the brand. It will be over within seconds, and then you can go and start enjoying your free life, okay?” He lit the blowtorch and Blaine closed his eyes at the hissing sound. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“Okay,” he croaked.

Kurt watched, mortified, as the X grew red-hot in the blue flame. He’d read that the steel was heated to over a thousand degrees for this procedure, and now he wished he didn’t know that.

Blaine’s hand was like a vise around his. 

“Okay, Blaine,” Elliott said, moving the flame over the X once more. “Take a breath. I’m gonna count to three, and then I’ll be done in five seconds, okay? One. Two. Three.”

There was a sharp gasp, a sizzle, the acrid smell of melting skin, and then it was over. Blaine’s hand went limp in Kurt’s. Elliott dropped the brand on the tray with a clang.

“Blaine? You still with me?”

“I’m okay,” Blaine breathed out, and the relief took off in Kurt’s chest like a bird, making him feel lighter than he had all week.

Elliott was already unsnapping the straps. “Good. Great. Don’t move your head yet, I’ll just put some gauze over the burn, and then you can go sit with Kurt for a bit and catch your breath, okay?”

“’Kay.”

Kurt caught a glimpse of the new brand before Elliott covered it, the blackened X over the inflamed red of Blaine’s skin. “So what’s the aftercare? I’ve never done this before,” he said.

“You’ll get a printout with instructions and a little tube of salve from Sophie on your way out. But you should stay in the back room until Blaine feels okay to walk.”

Kurt nodded and caught Blaine who had just tried to get off the chair, his knees wobbling. He looked a little out of it.

“And I pay on our way out?” Kurt made sure.

Elliott shook his head. “No. I don’t charge for rebranding. Consider it my freedom gift.” He smiled at them and walked over to open a side door for them, a small, comfortable room visible beyond it. “If Blaine wants to consider a tattoo to cover the brand after it heals completely, give me a call. Not to blow my own horn, but that’s my specialty.”

Kurt nodded. “Thank you for making it less traumatic than I feared.”

Blaine raised his face from the crook of Kurt’s neck. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Elliott grinned. “Don’t mention it. Okay guys, leave by the blue door when you’re ready, but no hurry. And Blaine, if you start feeling worse, or dizzy, just press the button by the couch.” With a parting smile, he closed the door, and they were finally alone.

Kurt led Blaine to the large red couch and sunk into its inviting softness. He planned to have Blaine lay down with his head in Kurt’s lap, but that was not what Blaine needed.

“Hold me,” he whispered, pawing weakly at Kurt’s chest, and Kurt listened immediately. Careful of Blaine’s neck, he stretched out on the couch with Blaine in his arms, their whole bodies connected. As soon as Blaine’s head was on his shoulder, Kurt could feel all the tension seep out of Blaine’s muscles.

And then his shoulders began to shake.

Kurt froze. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

Blaine shook his head minutely and looked at him with eyes overflowing like liquid gold. “I’m fine. It’s just… I was so afraid. And the first time, when I was a kid, was so _so_ much worse, and the beginning of all the pain that was yet to come, and now… now it’s really over. I’m no longer a slave.” He laughed through the tears, a little hysterical, and Kurt held him tighter.

“No, you’re not. You’re free. You can do anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“ _Anything_.”

*

Half an hour, one box of juice and a few squares of chocolate later, Blaine felt good enough to leave. Kurt wanted to get a cab, get him home and plant him on the couch for the rest of the day to recuperate from the experience (and, frankly, to pamper him a little), but as they walked out into the April sunshine, Blaine smiled and took his hand.

“Let’s walk a little.”

“But–”

“I’m fine. I feel great, we’re right by the park, and I want to test this whole ‘being boyfriends out in the open’ thing. Pretty please?”

How could Kurt say no?

They walked with their hands swinging between them and Kurt didn’t even pay attention where Blaine led him, immersed in the perfect happiness of the moment. And then they were in a quiet spot by a fountain, Blaine stepping in front of him, and Kurt thought he wanted to kiss him – but no.

Blaine got down on one knee.

“Kurt, the first time I saw you, I was down on my knees, beaten, terrified, and just about to die. And then you came and changed _everything_ ,” Blaine said, his voice trembling slightly, but strong and certain. “Now I’m on my knees again, but it’s by my own choice. I am whole, happier than I’ve ever been, and just about to start my life as a free man. And even if I don’t know what this life will bring, what changes are in my future, I am certain of one thing: I want to spend the rest of my life with you – loving you, taking care of you, and hopefully making you as happy as you have made me for years.” He opened a little black box and held it up to Kurt, a simple silver band shining in the sun. “I can’t offer you much – not yet, anyway, but everything I am and everything I have is yours. Kurt, will you marry me?”

Kurt didn’t have to think a second. His heart in a happy gallop, eyes overflowing, he pulled Blaine up and into his arms. “ _Yes._ Yes I will.” 

When they kissed, the band’s weight unfamiliar and perfect around his finger, Kurt didn’t think of that cold November day in Ohio that had changed everything.

He thought of the years to come that he would get to spend with this amazing man, loving and being loved. Coming home from Blaine’s concerts and Kurt’s shows to a house full of sunlight and laughter. Sunday mornings filled with the scent of coffee and sleepy smiles of amber-eyed children.

It felt very much like a perfect life.

THE END

 


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